Apollo's Melody
by Cobalt Dreams
Summary: In the midst of one of the bloodiest wars in history, Apollo finds himself looking at another god in an entirely new light... Slash.
1. Chapter 1

_"The best of things, beyond their measure, cloy; _  
_Sleep's balmy blessing, love's endearing joy; _  
_The feast, the dance; whate'er mankind desire, _  
_Even the sweet charms of sacred numbers tire. _  
_But Troy for ever reaps a dire delight _  
_In thirst of slaughter, and in lust of fight."_

-_The Iliad, _Book 13

* * *

**Chapter 1: The Trojan War**

* * *

It was a cloudless day in Greece at the base of Mount Olympus. A young man sat against the trunk of a laurel tree, leaning back so that his golden hair cascaded against the bark. His eyes were closed and he was humming a tune that he had undoubtedly just composed. When the last note fell from his lips, his eyes opened, revealing a startlingly shade of sapphire-blue. He caught sight of a crow, perched on the uppermost branch of the tree. The beady eyes of the bird returned his stare. A smile graced the features of the young man. "Come here, my friend!" he said in a melodious voice that would break the heart of any mortal. For this person was not just an ordinary young man; though he had the appearance of a man and the personality of a man, he was one of the twelve immortal Greek gods that resided above the peak of Mount Olympus.

The crow, sensing a friend in the god who had spoken, immediately flew down to the slender finger that the blonde had extended. With his other hand, he stroked the jet black feathers which covered the crow's head. The bird leaned into his gentle touch, and the god, happy to have made a new acquaintance, began to sing a new tune. He sang of the beautiful world and of all the wonderful creatures that roamed it. At the sound of his voice, animals began to creep out from the shelter of the woods. A wolf settled itself on his lap, a deer nuzzled his neck, and a swan waddled by his feet.

"A charming song," said a new male voice. "Why not play along to it on my lyre?"

The blonde looked up to see a second immortal hovering several feet above him, wearing winged sandals, a winged cap, and a wicked grin.

"It isn't 'your' lyre, Hermes," the first male said grumpily. "We traded fairly."

"I had just been born! I knew not what I was trading!" the one called Hermes contradicted, though a smirk was beginning to spread across his face. "I was told that angering the mighty Lord Apollo would lead to misfortune…"

"Well, you _had _just stolen my cattle."

"You know it was funny!" The winged god did a graceful flip in midair, grinning from ear-to-ear.

"I will not grace that nonsense with an answer. Don't you have messages to be delivering?"

Hermes winked cheekily, and with a flap of his wings was gone.

The blonde called Apollo sighed warily. Gently removing the wolf from his lap, he climbed to his feet in one graceful movement – only to realize that his bow and arrow, previously resting against the tree, was missing. The angry growl that emitted from his chest shook every tree in the forest to the very roots. "Hermes!" Apollo bellowed, and almost immediately he heard a musical laugh. Turning around, he caught sight of the young god peeking out from behind a bush, silver bow clutched in his hands, infamous mischievous grin twisting his lips. Quick as a flash, Apollo snatched a silver arrow from the quiver slung across his back and hurled it at Hermes, who dodged it quickly. "Fine!" conceded Hermes, instantly handing over the weapon. "You don't have to be so mean."

"You can't help yourself, can you?" questioned Apollo, swinging his beloved bow over his shoulder.

"I _am _the God of Thievery."

"Is there something you want?"

"To answer your question, Zeus has called a meeting." The thief stilled his wings and descended to the ground gracefully. His white tunic fluttered in the breeze.

"About what? Are the Cyclopes refusing to create thunderbolts again?" The question was sarcastic, but Hermes grinned. "Exactly. I forgot you had the gift of foresight."

Apollo was bathing in a nearby river, not very far from Troy, a city that he was a patron of. He was gently stroking the head of a swan, his favorite bird, when Hermes appeared. He sat, legs crossed, on top of the water. Apollo merely glanced up at the young god before resuming his task. "You need a haircut," the messenger announced.

"That's an interesting message," was the answer. "Did Zeus send you all the way here just to tell me that?"

It was true that Apollo's hair was very long, stretching down to his lower back, but he would never consider cutting it. It was one of the things he was famous for, something that set him apart from the other gods. No one else in Olympus had hair that was a shade brighter than the sun itself.

"No, actually," Hermes said, ignoring Apollo's sarcasm. "Zeus has called another meeting."

"What does he want now?" Apollo generally made it a top priority to stay out of his father's business.

"Greece has declared war on Troy."

Apollo sighed and wrung the water out of his hair. He had known that this day was coming, of course, but that didn't make him any more excited about it.

"There's one more thing," Hermes said, adjusting his winged cap. "Ares said something about wanting archery lessons."

At this, the blonde god snorted with laughter and finally looked up at the messenger. "Did you tell him to ask Artemis?"

Hermes smirked and cocked an eyebrow. "Ares learning archery from a girl? I don't think so."

Apollo smiled. "There are some who say that she can outshoot me."

* * *

As it turned out, it wasn't so much a meeting as it was a terrifically loud argument between the gods.

"We will not participate!" Zeus roared at the top of his voice, and on Earth a flash of lightning cut its way through the sky.

"Why shouldn't we?" demanded Poseidon. "This war has been destined to happen for years. Is it not your duty to carry out the will of Destiny?"

Zeus sputtered in his rage. "No! It is my duty – _our duty – _to _ensure_ that destiny runs its course! It is the duty of the mortals to do the actual carrying-out!"

The other gods looked at each other in confusion, none of them being entirely sure what the king was trying to say. It was the eldest male god that finally spoke up. "Don't be ridiculous," Hades snapped at his brother. "They're _mortals_. How do you expect them to know what the will of Destiny is?"

In a flash, Zeus drew a thunderbolt from somewhere within his robes and threw it at the Lord of the Underworld. When the smoke cleared, the moody god was gone. Hermes chuckled.

"Don't be so immature," Athena spat at him. Hermes immediately sobered, for Athena was the favorite child of Zeus, and to anger Athena was to anger her father. But the messenger needn't have bothered, because it soon became apparent that Athena was already quite upset.

"This is entirely your fault!" she seethed, whirling around to face Aphrodite.

"My fault?" was the response, as the speaker examined her nails in a lazy manner. "I can't be blamed for knowing how to please men."

It was the prince of Troy that the goddess of love spoke of, a mortal who went by the name of Paris. Upon finding a golden apple at the wedding of Zeus' grandson, into which were inscribed the words "To the fairest", Athena, Hera, and Aphrodite asked the young, witless prince to judge which of three deserved the apple. Athena offered the prize of a soldier's skills; Hera, the status of a great emperor; Aphrodite, the love of the most beautiful woman on the planet. Aphrodite was the immediate winner.

"As far as I'm concerned, both of you are to blame." Apollo, normally quiet during arguments, decided to speak up. At his words, both of his sisters rounded on him with rage painted across their lovely faces. "You didn't have to claim the apple," he continued in a logical voice, for he was also the god of reason.

"What's done is done," Zeus interrupted, bringing silence to the room. "And I refuse to take any part of it." He turned to face his wife, Hera, who sat next to him in stony silence, and his daughters, both of whom continued to glare at Apollo. "Apollo is right. This is your mess," he declared. "And I will not clean it up. If you must interfere, do it yourselves." And with that, he stalked from the room.

Seven of twelve gods opted to remain in the room to watch the developments on Earth. Apollo had left immediately after the departure of the king, preferring not to take part in the activities of his family. Hermes had went to visit Odysseus, a Greek meant to be a hero in the upcoming Trojan War.

"The Greeks will set sail in ten days," Poseidon said.

"Not if I have anything to say about it," Artemis, Apollo's twin sister and the goddess of hunting, said in a grumpy voice. Agamemnon, the commander-in-chief of the Greek army, had prayed and made sacrifice to eleven of the twelve gods. Artemis was the sole goddess that was left out. "Aphrodite, what is the dearest thing to Agamemnon's heart? What is that which he loves the most?"

A half-smile made its way onto Aphrodite's lips. "His daughter," she replied simply. "Who goes by the name of Iphigenia."

"The Greeks will not sail until a sacrifice has been made in my name," the hunter goddess declared, and with that said she dove from the heavens down to Earth.

"This will be one of the greatest wars in the history of time," Ares, the god of war, said in a solemn tone. Before anyone could reply to the statement, Hermes appeared in a whirl of feathers and gold.

"Odysseus is on his way to Scyros," he announced with a grin, emerald eyes flashing with glee.

"That's cheating!" Aphrodite, who was on the Trojan's side in order to protect Paris, cried out in anger.

"You know that Achilles is destined to fight in this war," Hermes retorted impatiently. "We and Odysseus are among the only people who know that he is in hiding. How else is he supposed to participate?"

Aphrodite scowled but remained silent, much to the pleasure of the second youngest god.

Achilles' mother was Thetis, a water nymph. She foresaw that her son was destined to die in the great Trojan War. In order to prevent this, she sent him in to hiding, disguised as a lady-in-waiting at the Court of Scyros. Only she and the gods knew of the scheme. Hermes, knowing that the scales would tip greatly in favor of the Greeks if Achilles were to join the war, passed the secret on to Odysseus. The war was progressing rapidly.

* * *

Exactly ten days later, the Greeks set sail in the amount of one-thousand ships. Artemis had claimed Agamemnon's daughter as her own, and the girl was now working as a servant in her temple. All twelve gods watched as the Greeks reached the shores of Troy. The fight for the beach didn't last long, and soon the Trojan army was retreating behind their walls.

"The Greeks will never be able to get through those walls," Poseidon said proudly. "I built them myself."

"We know," Zeus responded in a dry tone. "It was I who ordered you to do so."

Just as the gods were getting ready to leave the room, Ares caught sight of a group of soldiers heading towards Apollo's temple, which was only a few leagues away from the ocean. "Uh oh," the god of war said, effectively catching the attention of his family members, who doubled back to see what was happening.

Apollo watched, stunned, as the Greeks ransacked his temple, taking several priests as slaves.

"I think the Trojans just gained another ally," his twin sister murmured to Ares with a small smile. As they spoke, Apollo took up his bow, his face set in an expression that meant horror for those who fell beneath it.

Indeed, that night Apollo descended to the highest hill that overlooked the Greek campground. His beauty was terrible in the moonlight. Golden hair and blue eyes were as bright as fire. He nocked his bow with a poisoned arrow and let it soar directly into the center of the camp. Satisfied with his work, he perched on top of a boulder and waited for the sun to rise.

Wretched coughing was the first sign that the camp was beginning to wake. Immortal eyes zeroed in on the first Greek to crawl out of his tent. Sand ran between his grasping fingers and coated to his sweating legs. He heaved another cough, and blood sprayed the ground.

Within the hour, Agamemnon called a meeting. "What is this plague that has been inflicted upon my army?" he roared. "What sorcery is this?"

Calchas, an oracle, was the one to step forward. His eyes were wide with fear. "My Lord," he called. "This is the work of the gods. They are angry with us." A rumble of murmurs was aroused at this statement. Before Agamemnon could reply, Apollo lifted himself from the boulder and made his way into the camp.

"Agamemnon," he called forth to the platform upon which the king stood.

The man's squinty eyes focused on the man before him. "Who are you?" he snapped.

Apollo's eyes narrowed and he fingered the silver bow slung over his shoulder. Behind him, the soldiers were silent.

"You allowed your men to go through my temple as if my treasures were ordinary spoils of war. You have taken my loyal priests as slaves and have disrespected everything I stand for. I have cast a plague upon your army. Tomorrow, I expect my priests to be returned to their families and my treasures to be returned to the temple." And without waiting for a response, the god turned on his heel and made his way back to Mount Olympus.

The following year passed quickly for the Olympians, but for the Greeks and Trojans it was the polar opposite. Casualties resulting from Apollo's plague ran high. The beach was filled with rotting bodies, blow flies, and the stench of death. Nearly half of the once-massive Greek army had fallen victim to the illness. Finally, exactly a year later, the curse was lifted.

* * *

Apollo was sitting in his temple, leaning against a statue that depicted his own likeness. He didn't look up when Hermes appeared, but merely tilted his head in greeting. Hermes took this as a sign to begin talking.

"Ares wants you to come home. The Greeks plan to lay a siege on the Trojan wall and he thinks their archers may need you."

No answer.

Hermes paused before venturing, "Did you know that it was Achilles who led the raid on your temple?"

At this, the blonde god looked up. Hermes continued, "They say he has no faith. He believes that no one, not even the gods, can kill him."

"Then it would teach him a lesson if he were to be killed by a god, wouldn't it?"

* * *

Every day thereafter, the Trojan War was closely observed by Apollo, who was now in favor of the Trojans. He guided their archer's arrows, and his work was aided by Ares, Aphrodite, and Hephaestus.

The day came when Hector slew Achilles' lover, thus sealing his fate to die at the hands of the Greek warrior. Hector fought and died bravely, but Achilles shocked both the Trojans and the gods when he stole the prince's body.

"What is he doing?" Athena finally demanded. She had always been fond of Hector, and this act of brutality was hard for her to stand.

Zeus, despite his self-proclaimed neutrality, decided to take charge. "Hermes," he said in his loud voice. "When night falls, I want you to go to Priam. Lead him to the Achilles' tent. When he collects the body of his son, make sure that he returns to Troy safely."

Hermes nodded that he understood the orders, and when darkness enveloped the city of Troy, he appeared inside the king's chambers. "My king," he whispered, for the elderly man was asleep. When he jerked awake and saw who was hovering over his bed, his eyes widened to the size of saucers. "I am here to take you to your son's body," Hermes said softly, grasping the man's hand and helping him out of bed. Not a word was spoken during the entire journey. When they arrived at the flap of Achilles' tent, Hermes nodded for the king to go inside. "I will wait out here."

As soon as the king was inside, Apollo appeared next to the messenger god. Although he was among the wisest and most respected of the gods, he looked at that particular moment like the temperamental, eternally-youthful teenager he was. "I wish I could kill him now," the blonde hissed, staring at Achilles' tent like it had done him a great wrong. "He is a speck of dirt upon this beautiful planet."

Hermes sighed. "Apollo…" he began, but the blonde interrupted.

"He disrespects the gods, he disrespects our custom, he rapes and pillages and –"

"That's what war is, and he is a war hero," Hermes snapped.

Apollo glared at the younger god for a second before sighing to himself. "I curse him, and that from which he came." As he spoke, Priam and Achilles himself appeared from within the tent. Achilles spotted the two gods.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

Apollo's beautiful face was contorted with hate. "I am the one whose hands you will die at."

Hermes laid a hand on his friend's arm. "I am Hermes, messenger herald of the Olympian gods, and this is Apollo, bearer of light and master of archery. You need not introduce yourself; we know who you are, Achilles, hero of war." Deciding to ignore Achilles for now, Apollo turned to Priam. He held out one of his hands. "It is a pleasure to meet you, great king. You are greatly admired by the gods. It is with pride that I protect your city." Tears filled the old king's eyes, and he laid his hand in Apollo's, who covered it with his remaining hand. "Your archers will always shoot straight and true, and your people will stand strong and healthy," Apollo promised, and the king clutched his hands tightly. After these words were spoken, a third person appeared from within the tent. This time, it was a young girl, donned in the virgin robes worn by those who served Apollo. When she saw said god standing directly before her, she froze. Hermes buried his youthful face in his hands, knowing that she had just evoked Apollo's wrath.

Apollo stared at the newcomer. "You claim to be my servant, yet you lay beside this Greek, enemy of your people?" he asked incredulously, blue sparks flying from his eyes. Turning to the king, he said, "No longer let this girl serve in my temple. She will bring bad fortune to your city." Dropping the king's hand, Apollo gave his full attention to the servant. "Explain yourself!" he demanded. When she didn't respond for fear, he pointed at Achilles and coldly declared, "You will die upon his grave."

He turned on his heel, dragging Hermes with him.

"Nobody asked you to come," Hermes muttered, wrenching his arm out of Apollo's iron-like grip.

"Hera and Zeus were fighting again," Apollo said by way of explanation. "It was starting to annoy me. I had to get out of the palace."

"Oh great," Hermes groaned, emerald eyes rolling towards the heavens. Apollo understood his dilemma. Hermes was often a tool used by both Hera and Zeus – Hera sent him on errands to find out which lovers Zeus was meeting, and Zeus had Hermes device elaborate lies to tell his wife about where he had been.

Several moments passed in silence before Hermes suddenly smacked his forehead. "I was supposed to make sure that Priam got home safely!"

"He will." There was nothing but certainty in the archer's voice, and Hermes immediately relaxed.

Apollo suddenly stopped in his tracks, tilting his head up towards the sky so that his blonde hair nearly reached his thighs. "The stars are beautiful tonight," he said in the softest of tones. His voice, no longer angry, reminded Hermes of how it sounded when the older god sang in his temple. Animals and people alike would come to listen.

"I swear on Zeus that you are bipolar," Hermes said under his breath as Apollo sat down, settling himself in the sand.

"Do not swear upon our father," Apollo teased, a smile forming upon his lips. "'Tis bad luck."

Hermes sighed and took a seat next to his best friend. Apollo lay back, still gazing at the clear sky. Hermes followed suit, making sure not to lie down on any stray strands of his friend's hair. As they watched, a quick flash of lightning, invisible to the human eye, flashed across the sky. Underneath them, the ground rumbled slightly. "Poseidon must have joined the fight," Hermes murmured.

"What else is new," Apollo replied sleepily.

Within the hour, the two gods were sound asleep.

* * *

When Apollo awoke, the first thing he noticed was that his chest was warm – very, _very _warm. His nostrils were flooded with the earthy scent of saffron. _ Wait. What?_

"Oh, look how adorable," a familiar voice crooned, and the god of light finally lifted his head. He cried out in pain when his face was smashed into something hard. He instantly leapt to his feet, holding his bleeding nose. He found himself standing next to a laughing Aphrodite. The sound of groaning drew his attention to the ground. When he saw who was lying there, he realized what had happened.

Hermes had fallen asleep on his chest, and now Aphrodite was laughing at them both.

"Don't you ever take that ridiculous thing off?" Apollo asked grumpily, referring to the winged cap that the messenger was still wearing and that was responsible for his aching face.

"I didn't know you liked to cuddle," Aphrodite added.

"What are you talking about?" Hermes asked, rubbing his eyes. Even though his hair was full of dirt and his tunic was filthy, he still looked beautiful in the morning light.

"You dented my face," Apollo said dryly, attempting to hide the fact that for the first time, he was admiring the sight of the young god in a less-than-innocent manner.

Aphrodite, trying (and failing) to smother her giggles, said, "Father was looking for you, Hermes. He has messages for you to deliver."

"Fine," was his groggy response, and with another giggle she turned around and disappeared on the spot with a flash of red light.

Apollo scowled at the spot where she had been standing before turning around and seeing that Hermes was climbing to his feet. Apollo flashed a smile at him. "I suppose you should probably get going."

Hermes grinned back, suddenly looking like the malicious imp that had stolen Apollo's cattle. He disappeared with a beat of his wings. Apollo looked around warily. That infamous smile of Hermes' usually meant that something of his had gone missing. His bow and quiver were still strapped to his back. He patted his robes, feeling for his lyre. It was still there.

Apollo raised an eyebrow. _This is unusual. _

And then, before he knew what was happening, a fistful of sand was being hurled into his face.

Apollo cried out in fury, desperately rubbing at his eyes. He didn't have time to prepare himself for the next assault, which was directed at the back of his head. "You insolent brat!" Apollo screamed, clutching at his hair with both hands. The golden tresses were full of sand.

The messenger appeared directly in front of him, laughing so hard there were tears in his emerald eyes. Apollo glared at him, his beautiful eyes reddened from the gritty sand.

Hermes instantly sobered under that icy look. "Sorry," he mumbled.

Apollo, seeing that his friend was contrite, visibly relaxed. "Just don't do it again, or I might have to kill you."

"I sincerely doubt that," Hermes snorted. "You love me too much." And with those words and one last malicious grin, he vanished.


	2. Chapter 2

_"For a friend with an understanding heart is worth no less than a brother." _

_-_Homer, _The Odyssey_

* * *

**Chapter 2: Turning of the Tide**

* * *

**The Next Morning**

Apollo was walking slowly through a wooded area. It was a beautiful morning, but he was having trouble understanding why he felt so happy. He plopped down onto the forest floor and began to braid his hair, tying it back with an ornate piece of leather that Hermes had given him last Yule. _'Wouldn't it be easier to just cut your hair?' the childish god teased. _

He had smiled gently, the way he always did when about to explain something to his younger friend. _'My hair is a part of me. Each morning, the sun touches it just like it touches my arms, my legs, my eyes. Would I cut off any of those things?' _

Hermes had rolled his eyes, something he did so often that Apollo thought it should become his trademark. _'The sun would touch your hair even if it were a bit shorter, Apollo…' _

"Apollo!" a familiar voice called, and he turned around to face none other than Hermes himself. The messenger held a package in his hands. "For you. It's from Hephaestus," Hermes muttered, thrusting the package into Apollo's arms and quickly turning away. Apollo, confused by this behavior but choosing to ignore it for now, ripped open the package. It contained several silver arrows. The note read simply, _"A new creation. These are unbreakable."_ Apollo smiled. He had always been rather fond of Hephaestus, who was permanently lame due to one of Hera's fits of rage, during which the queen had thrown him from the heavens.

"I'll have to make sure to visit him soon," Apollo said aloud, making a mental note to himself.

"What did he say?" Hermes asked, now sounding grumpier than ever.

"He sent me some new arrows," Apollo responded, positively baffled. Had he done something to upset his friend? "What's wrong with you?"

Hermes was almost never angry; he had a wide reputation for being the happiest, friendliest Olympian.

"Nothing is _wrong_ with me. I just don't feel well." The answer wasn't a complete lie, Apollo sensed, nor was it totally truthful.

"Is it something I could help with?"

"I don't know – maybe." The answer was so soft that no mortal could have possibly heard it, and almost as soon as the words left his mouth, Hermes whirled around and flew into the sky, leaving behind a very confused Apollo.

* * *

Afternoon would find the god of light strolling along the shore, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he was being watched. He kicked off his sandals, sat down, and put his feet in the wet sand where small waves washed ashore. From the folds of his chiton, he removed the lyre that Hermes had given to him so many years ago. Heart-breaking music flowed from the strings that his nimble fingers were dancing across, and lyrics fell from his perfectly-sculpted lips.

It was several moments before he realized that he was not the only one singing.

Apollo smiled, recognizing the voice, and continued to play until the song was finished. The last note faded away. Apollo sat down the lyre and glanced up at the tree where he knew Hermes was hiding. He caught a glimpse of the messenger perched up on the highest branch. The smile widened. He jumped to his feet and easily scaled the tree until he was face-to-face with Hermes.

"What are you doing up here?" Apollo asked, amused. He would never admit to himself just how endearing he found the sight of the small god balancing on a tree branch.

"None of your business," the herald responded, not meeting the other god's eyes. Despite being utterly confused at this ongoing strange behavior, Apollo smiled gently and said, "You are a mystery to me, dear friend."

Apollo could sense the turmoil that was going on inside Hermes' mind, but still couldn't think of anything he had done to upset the messenger.

"You're a mystery to everyone in Olympus," the younger god declared in a testy voice.

Apollo found the statement amusing, but Hermes only looked more upset at the sound of his laugh. "And how, may I ask, am I a mystery?"

"You're so quiet," Hermes murmured. "People can always see that you're thinking, but we never know what about."

Apollo smiled. "Oh, I'm probably just writing songs. Now, before I die of curiosity, will you please tell me why you're in a tree?"

"I – I don't know," Hermes admitted, casting his eyes downwards.

"Maybe you just wanted to be close to your best friend," Apollo teased. His laughter died down when he saw that the other god still had a serious expression on his face. It was almost as though he were pondering the words.

Deciding that a change of subject was necessary, Apollo swept his braid over his shoulder and jumped to the ground, gesturing for Hermes to follow him. "You're so bossy," the messenger said under his breath, but followed suit. He took a seat next to his friend, removing his winged sandals so that he, too, could put his feet in the water. When he reached up to remove the cap, Apollo found himself watching with interest. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen the herald without his signature cap.

With a tired sigh, Hermes pushed the cap off with his hands and set it down next to his sandals. Apollo stared at his head. The cap had come off, but the wings were still on, white as snow. Wavy black hair fell against his shoulders, bringing out his vivid green eyes. He looked like a completely different person. The wings were attached to a band of gold that wound across the other's head, resting on his forehead and disappearing underneath his mop of hair. Slowly, Apollo reached out and touched the band, slipping his finger underneath it before pulling it off completely. He set it next to the sandals and cap. "Now I know you can't fly away," he whispered, tilting his head and gazing at his friend. At the moment, Hermes looked nothing like the impish child that Apollo had come to adore. His face was set in a serious expression, replacing the sly grin that he was so famous for. His frame was smaller than Apollo's, and his face was a few years younger, but he had the intelligence that centuries of life had given him.

"You're beautiful." The words slipped out of Apollo's mouth before he had comprehended the sentence. He was surprised to see a blush forming upon the other's cheeks.

"No, I'm not," he mumbled. Apollo was surprised and then upset. He hated it when others couldn't see their own beauty. Especially when it was so obvious.

"Hermes," the elder said. "There are thousands of mortal men who would sacrifice anything to look like you." He touched his hair briefly before disappearing in a flash of golden light.

* * *

Apollo sat at the very peak of a mountain, his head resting on the back of a female deer. He was singing softly, but his mind was truly in other places.

_He truly is one of the most beautiful creatures I have ever seen. _And Apollo had seen many: Paris, the Prince of Troy. Hyacinth, a Spartan Prince. _But none could hold a candle to the herald of the gods._

He sighed and reached back to stroke the head of the doe. As he did so, he pulled his legs closer to his chest and gazed at the trees high above. Apollo remembered when those trees were saplings, just beginning to pop out of the earth. Now they were tall and mighty, the life source of the mortals that now populated this planet.

"Isn't it a beautiful morning?" a voice asked. Apollo turned around to see Demeter standing mere feet away, holding a basket filled to the brim with strawberries. She was barefoot and wore a thin silk gown. Apollo nodded in greeting.

She sat down her basket and took a seat beside the doe. "Sometimes, Apollo, I believe you spend more time outside than I do," she teased.

"Bathing in the sun and talking with animals inspires music and poetry more so than sitting inside, listening to my brothers and sisters argue," he said logically.

She nodded in understanding and ran her fingers through the doe's fur. "The animals love you. The world loves you."

"I have done nothing to deserve such love, but I welcome it with open arms."

"You are one of the universe's most beautiful creations, nephew."

Apollo had heard this before, but had never truly believed it. "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder."

She nodded once again. "Precisely. And there has never been a soul that looked upon you with distaste. Mortals that look upon you fall in love. Sometimes, gods do as well."

"That sounds more like Aphrodite than me," Apollo said with a small laugh.

Demeter looked up from the doe and smiled. "Ah, but many shy away from Aphrodite's manipulations and temper. You are the god of truth, and even in anger, you are calm."

Before he could reply, a voice echoed through the woods. "Demeter!" A second later, Artemis appeared. In her arms, she carried a small wolf. "Look what I found wandering around." A wide smile was spread across her lovely face as she showed the animal to Demeter.

"You aren't going to have Hestia make a stew from it, are you?" Apollo asked warily.

She laughed and shook her head before placing the baby wolf in his arms.

"What's this for?" her twin asked, struggling to keep a grip on the squirming animal.

"You look as though you need a friend," she replied.

Apollo watched as his twin and Demeter shared a knowing look. He shrugged it off and lifted the wolf up to his face.

"What's your name?" he asked as it attempted to lick his nose.

"It's a she," Artemis informed him.

"Then we shall call you Angelia," Apollo told the wolf, touching his nose to hers and trying not to think about why he had chosen a name that meant "Messenger". Apollo noticed that Artemis and Demeter were staring at one another once more, small smirks on their faces.

"What?" he demanded, standing up and holding the wolf close to his chest.

"It's a beautiful name," Demeter said in her gentle voice.

He relaxed.

"Good luck, brother," Artemis said, and before Apollo could ask what she meant, the two disappeared with flashes of gold and green light.

He sighed. "It's just us," he whispered to his new pet.

* * *

**2 Years Later**

* * *

When Apollo awoke, he discovered that one side of his face was damp. He groaned and rolled over, only to be met with a face full of thick fur. "Angelia," he groaned again. Her copper eyes shone at him innocently, and he laughed before scratching behind her ears. "Is that your way of telling me to get up?"

She licked his face in reply.

The wolf had grown to the size of a pony. Her paws were as big as Apollo's hands and she stood up to his waist. Her fur was light gray, with black along the sides of her face. She was one of the most beautiful animals that the blonde god had ever seen.

"Angelia!" a voice called. "Where are you? I have breakfast!" And suddenly, the messenger of the gods appeared in Apollo's doorway, holding a plate full of raw meat. Apollo eyed the plate and drawled, "I hope this isn't your idea of breakfast in bed."

Hermes grinned. "Only for your dog. She wouldn't leave me alone."

With a rumbling bark, Angelia jumped off the bed and trotted over to the messenger, jumping up and resting her front paws on his shoulders. Apollo smiled at the sight and tried not to be jealous of his wolf.

"I love you too," Hermes whispered to the wolf, before removing her paws and setting her food down. Apollo let out a sigh, trying not to think about why he was wishing that Hermes was speaking to him instead of Angelia.

Hermes straightened up and flashed another smile at his friend. "Come on, lazy. Hestia is making breakfast."

Apollo threw the furs off of his lap and crawled out of bed. Searching through his trunk, he found a fresh set of robes and slipped them on. He began to sing as he searched around for his sandals.

"No wonder you're the god of music," Hermes teased. Apollo ignored him and continued to sing, slipping on his sandals and then pushing his hair out of my face.

"Let's go."

* * *

**A month later – Greek Invasion of the Trojan City**

* * *

Apollo shouldered his bow before striding into a courtyard with Prince Paris at his heels. With a booted foot, the god rolled Achilles over so that he was lying on his back, his glazed eyes staring at the night sky. Apollo leaned over him until his eyes caught mine and widened with recognition. Apollo gave him a nasty smile. "The god of truth does not tell lies, Achilles," he said softly. "I told you that you would die at my hands." In one fluid motion, he reached behind his back and grabbed the hero's sobbing lover, dragging her until her face was above his. "And this traitor…" he tightened his grip until she cried out. "She will die upon your grave." Apollo threw her down next to Achilles.

The god of light had barely straightened up when the earth began to shake beneath his feet. Pieces of stone from crumbling buildings fell to the ground around him. Screams pierced the night. "It's Zeus!" someone cried out hysterically. "He is angry that we have destroyed the city!"

Apollo frowned, knowing that Zeus had declared neutrality. There was only one person besides himself that would dare to make a personal appearance at such a crucial moment.

Hermes.

Trying to ignore a sudden wave of fear, Apollo closed his eyes and willed himself to appear by the messenger's side.

A moment later, he opened his eyes.

The light from the burning city made it possible to see the gold of the messenger's winged sandals, barely visible inside the crater that he had created upon impact. Apollo ran to him, pulling his limp body from the hole. His cap had fallen off, and his dark hair hung freely around his face. "You fool," Apollo whispered, brushing dirt from his face. The wings on his sandals were still moving feebly. Apollo laid his hands on the younger god's cheeks, prepared to use his powers as the god of healing to fix his friend. But before he could do so, he felt himself being pulled from the earth. It was as if a giant hand had swept him from his feet and was pulling him towards the heavens - which was probably the case. Apollo cursed his father and clung tightly to Hermes, making sure not to let him fall. Mere seconds later, he found myself in the palace on Mount Olympus with six angry faces in front of him. "What?" he snapped, not missing a beat.

"What," Zeus hissed, "did you think you were _doing?!_ The Trojans must lose this war!"

Apollo took a leaf out of Hermes' book and rolled his eyes. "If it is fate for the Trojans to lose, then lose they shall. It matters not what I do."

"You just added unnecessary years to this war, brother." This time it was Athena who spoke up, and Apollo rounded on her.

"Because of you and your _ingenious _wooden horse, Troy is falling rapidly."

"It needed to be done!" She defended her actions, stepping forward. Apollo held his ground. "The sieges on the wall were going nowhere!"

Artemis moved to her twin's side, touching his shoulder protectively. "Achilles was meant to die after he slayed Hector." Her words sounded calm, but a subtle warning was laced in.

"That doesn't mean _we _had to kill him!" Athena ground out.

"Apollo, you had no right…" Hera began, but was almost instantly cut off by Ares.

"This is a war!" he shouted. "Since when do right and wrong matter?"

"Since we have a reputation to uphold!" Aphrodite replied, glaring at her lover.

"Reputation?" Hephaestus, her husband, snorted with laughter. "What kind of reputation do you think all of your little affairs give us?"

Amidst all the shouting, Hermes began to stir in Apollo's arms.

"Be quiet!" Apollo roared to the others, and silence instantly fell. "Hermes is hurt, and all you can do is stand here and fight with each other. You disgust me." With that said, he made his way to his room, Hermes in his arms.

* * *

In the quiet atmosphere of his room, Apollo was singing softly while he waited for Hermes to come to.

He didn't notice at first when the messenger's eyes peeked open

"Apollo," Hermes' voice croaked. Apollo's head shot up faster than one of his arrows.

"Hermes," he exclaimed, climbing to his feet. "How are you feeling?"

Hermes groaned and wiggled slightly. "Like I was just hit by one of Zeus' thunderbolts," he admitted, sounding ashamed.

"You're such a fool!" Apollo declared, his voice slightly higher than normal. "Why did you follow me?"

Hermes, looking upset, struggled to sit up. "I _didn't _follow you," he said, sounding pained. "I was watching—"

"You can spare me the lecture," Apollo interrupted, his face contorting into a scowl. "Everyone else beat you to it."

"Good!" Hermes snapped, crossing his arms. "Maybe you'll learn not to act like a _child_ – holding silly grudges—you're a god, for Zeus's sake! You're supposed to be the bigger person! You can't just smite everyone that upsets you. "

This time, Apollo didn't respond. Judging by the look on Hermes' face, the messenger knew he had crossed a line. One of the things that Apollo hated most in the world was others questioning his judgment.

Before Hermes could apologize, Apollo turned on his heel and stormed out of his own room.

* * *

The tension level on Mount Olympus had reached its peak. Those in favor of the Greeks were still furious at Apollo for slaying Achilles. The Trojan supporters were moody because their side was destined to lose anyway.

The ongoing feud between Apollo and Hermes was not helping matters. Without Apollo's singing voice echoing throughout the palace or Hermes' impish smile and unexpected pranks, nobody knew what to think. Zeus was getting irritated, and could often be heard muttering, "I knew we shouldn't have interfered with the war."

Mealtimes were the worst part. In the past, it was always Hermes that began conversations and provided lively chatter. Now the messenger concentrated on his food, and the resulting silence was very tense. Children of the Olympians had been warned not to visit, and Hades, mourning the loss of Persephone's company, had become more unbearable than usual.

Finally, someone broke the ice. Funnily enough, it was Dionysus in one of his drunken states. A meeting had been called to make a decision about the war. Hermes had been the last to arrive, and the only available seat happened to be next to Apollo. Several moments passed in silence while the messenger god remained in the doorway, and Apollo stared at the table like it was the most interesting thing in the world. When no one had spoken or moved for five whole minutes, Dionysus jumped to his feet, knocking over his goblet of wine in the process (Aphrodite promptly screamed when the liquid spilled on her dress). "This is ridiculous!" the youngest god declared, and everyone looked at him in shock (even though he was well known for doing unexpected things). "Hermes," he burped. "You're _going _to sit here." He pointed somewhere to the right of the vacant chair. "And you and 'Pollo are gonna live happily ever…" he blinked rapidly, looking slightly confused.

"After?" Ares equipped with a smirk.

"_Yes_!" Dionysus screamed happily, pounding Ares on the back. "You are so smart." In spite of himself, Hermes began to giggle from the doorway. Grins spread across the faces of the gods, and Poseidon burst out laughing. Dionysus' youthful face was contorted with bemusement. "It's true! Ares _is _smart!"

"Sit down, brother," Ares chortled. Hermes had made his way into the room and slid into the seat beside Apollo. Even if the two didn't look at each other, it was a step forward, and Zeus began the meeting with a smile.

* * *

**Several Years Later**

* * *

The palace was noticeably empty. Athena had been scarce for a long time. She was staying close to Odysseus, aiding him on his treacherous journey home from Troy - most of the Olympians were doing everything in the power to kill him. They had taken the murder of Hector's son personally.

Poseidon had been staying in his own temple, doing his best to make the voyage home for the Greeks as turbulent as possible. Wrecking ships had become his favorite pastime.

Hades, too, was absent. The season had turned cold – it was time for Persephone to return to the Underworld. He wouldn't leave his kingdom until spring.

Ares, Artemis, Hestia, and Demeter had gone to visit the ruins of Troy, looking for any survivors. Zeus and Hera had gone on vacation, and without the king of gods around, there was very little mail for Hermes to deliver. That was how the messenger and Apollo came to be alone in the palace one afternoon.

Apollo was in a courtyard, playing with Angelia. He had made her a toy ball out of tightly wound rags, and was teaching her to fetch. "Go get the ball!" the golden-haired god shouted, throwing the toy. He blanched and chuckled when it hit a statue of Zeus on the head, not realizing that he was being watched.

The archer sighed when his wolf refused to go after the ball. He put his hands on his hips, eyeing the stubborn creature that was wagging her tail and blinking at her master innocently. "Fine, have it your way," he declared, turning around and looking for his lyre. He saw it leaning against a bust of Athena. "I can always practice my music."

He picked up the instrument and settled down on a soft patch of grass. His fingers hadn't yet touched the strings when he was struck by a flashback.

_The infant Hermes was picking up a turtle and using its shell and intestines to make a strange piece of art. The child - no doubt the result of one of Zeus' many adulterous escapades - began playing beautiful music with the new instrument. Apollo was absolutely stunned by the nimbleness of the newborn's fingers. How could a child invent such a beautiful thing in the space of a few moments_?

_X_

_Apollo was holding the mischievous infant, on his way to Mount Olympus. Glancing down, he noticed that the child had the greenest eyes that he had ever seen. _

_When he tilted his head, Hermes grabbed a handful of his hair. The baby cooed, awed by the softness of the golden tresses, and attempted to reach up for another handful. Apollo chuckled and leaned back, earning a disappointed look from the infant. "Gee!" the baby demanded, but the older god shook his head and smiled. "Tis not polite to grab someone's hair," he admonished. _

_X_

_"Apollo!" a young Hermes cried out, running out of the forest and blocking the line of Apollo's shot. The Sun God lowered his bow and scowled. "What?" _

_Hermes smiled teasingly. "Don't be grumpy. Look what I found!" He held up a strange looking animal. Its face was pointy, its tail long and bushy. _

_"What is it?" Apollo asked warily. The animal squirmed in Hermes' arms._

_"I don't know," the young god admitted. "It was climbing a tree when I found it."_

_"What are you going to call it?"_

_Hermes thought for several seconds before smiling. "How about…_skiouros_? Because of its tail?"_

_Apollo had to laugh. The Greek word meant shadow-tailed. "I think that's a good name." _

_And thus the squirrel received its name. _

_X_

_Apollo and Hermes were lying in a field beneath the stars. Despite the warmth radiating from the god of light, Hermes was covered with a wool blanket. The twinkling light from the above sky was reflected in his green eyes. A slight frown was upon his lips. "Apollo?" he finally asked. "Why doesn't Zeus want Hera to know that I'm his son?"_

_Apollo turned his head towards the younger god, and blonde hair spilled across his cheek. He thought for a moment before answering. "Because Hera is the Goddess of Marriage. She gets angry when Zeus has affairs, and he doesn't want to upset her."_

_ The frown got bigger. "I want to live in the palace," he complained. Apollo hated to see his friend upset. He sighed._

_ "I'll tell Hera that you're Zeus' son."_

_ A wide smile crossed the messenger's face, but a second later it faltered. "She won't hurt me, will she?"_

_ "I would never let anyone hurt you." _

_X_

_ "I won't let you touch him!" Apollo shouted, shielding the small form of Hermes with his body. Hera's rage was written across her face. Zeus had long ago fled from the room. "He has as much right to be here as you do!"_

_ "No, he doesn't!" she snarled, again attempting to grab the terrified messenger. Apollo shoved her away before grabbing his bow and fitting an arrow in it. He aimed the tip between her eyes. She stopped moving._

_ "You _will _treat him like he is your own son!"_

_ She huffed and shoved past the two men, storming through the doorway. _

Apollo bit his lip, holding the lyre closer to his body. He missed his best friend - the cheeky grin, the sarcastic comments, even the thievery. It had been more than five years since they had spoken properly.

"Hermes," he whispered, feeling broken. It was like a piece of him was missing.

"Yes?" a warm, familiar voice asked. Apollo looked up in surprise, and was instantly overcome by the sight of emerald green eyes. The object of his thoughts was sitting in front of him. Without a word, Apollo enveloped the messenger in his arms.

"I missed you, too," Hermes sighed, answering the unspoken statement. Apollo pressed a kiss to his exposed neck.

"Don't leave me alone again," the older god said quietly. It was an unusual display of vulnerability.

"Never," Hermes whispered in reply, actually sounding like he meant it. Apollo heard him inhale deeply.

They stayed like that for a while, making up for lost time. "I'm sorry," Hermes said eventually, his voice muffled against Apollo's cloak.

"Don't be. You have nothing to be sorry for."

Hermes didn't argue, but instead leaned up and kissed Apollo's earlobe. The blonde god shivered as he felt Hermes take the sensitive skin into his mouth and bite down gently. Then the messenger giggled, and Apollo shoved him away. "You're evil!" he exclaimed.

"It's been said," Hermes teased.

Apollo sighed with content. "I missed you so much."

Hermes scoffed. "Why would someone like _you _miss little old me?"

"You are truly the most amazing person I have ever had the honor to meet," was the simple reply. A blush colored Hermes' cheeks.

Because both gods were under the impression that they were alone at the palace, it came as a shock when a sharp voice cut through the air. "_What _is going on here?!" Peering over Hermes' shoulder, Apollo was horrified to see the intimidating form of Zeus silhouetted in a nearby doorway.

"Uh oh," Apollo said in Hermes' ear.

"He's standing right behind us, isn't he?" Hermes asked. To a stranger he might have sounded calm, but Apollo could hear the dread in his voice.

Zeus didn't give Apollo the chance to answer. Storming over to the couple, he grabbed Hermes by the arm and threw him away from the blonde. "Answer me!" he demanded of Apollo.

"What did it look like we were doing?" Apollo snapped. "Shouldn't you be happy that we're speaking to one another again? You've been griping about us ignoring each other for years now..."

Zeus glared at his favorite son. On Earth, a distant rumble of thunder could be heard. "I'm sorry, but I cannot tolerate a relationship between the two of you."

"Why not?" Apollo said in a tight voice.

"That is beside the point."

"No, father - it is actually the _entire _point!" His voice rose slightly, and his eyes were beginning to narrow.

"I do not have to answer your questions, Apollon. Whatever relationship you share needs to ends _now." _

"Give me a reason!" Apollo commanded. Zeus blinked at the authority in his favorite son's voice.

_"_Fine," the king conceded. He took a deep breath. "Apollo…I've arranged for you to marry Persephone."

"_What?" _

"Isn't she already married to Hades?" a baffled Hermes questioned.

"No, and that is exactly what I am trying to prevent." An annoyed look crossed the elder god's face. "Demeter would murder me in my bed -"

"I don't care!" Apollo cried, cutting across his father. "I don't love her - and I refuse to marry someone who spends half the year with my _uncle!"_

"You will grow to love her."

"I will leave Olympus if you force me to marry her," Apollo threatened.

"I grow tired of your threats, boy," Zeus said angrily. "You _will _marry her, and that's final."

With that, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the courtyard.

It was a while before either of the remaining gods spoke.

"You're lucky," Hermes said. "Persephone is a beautiful woman."

Apollo shot him an incredulous look. "_Lucky? _You call this _lucky?_"

The only response he received was a half-hearted shrug.

"_Lucky _would be my father letting me be with whomever I want!" Apollo declared.

"You could do worse than Persephone. Remember –" Hermes let out a mirthless laugh. "Remember how we used to chase after her?"

Apollo cocked an eyebrow at the trip-down-memory-lane, but went along with it. "Yes, it was the first time I saw Demeter in a murderous state. She never let Persephone come back to Olympus after that."

Hermes gave a long-suffering sigh. "Things weren't as complicated back then."

Apollo had to nod in agreement, his lips turning up in a smile. He realized that Hermes was attempting to distract him from the prospect of getting married. "I remember when you shaved Ares' head while he was asleep."

Hermes smirked, and, to Apollo's relief, a spark appeared in his eyes.

Apollo laid back, his long hair trailing through the grass. He wished he could stay right there forever.


	3. Chapter 3

_"Falling in love is one of the hardest things to do, because you can never be certain that someone will catch you."_

_-Unknown_

* * *

**Chapter 3: Free Fall**

* * *

**Several Months Later**

Hermes was late for dinner once again, and Apollo found himself tapping his foot in annoyance. What could the cretin possibly be up to now?

A second later, the messenger skidded into the room and slid into his seat. Apollo was the only one who shot him a chastising look; the other family members were too used to the younger god's antics to care.

"We're still waiting on Aphrodite," Hephaestus informed Hermes.

"Good," Hermes said, sounding slightly out of breath. Apollo looked at him suspiciously. Hermes looked back at him, and a grin spread across the elfish face. With that one look, Apollo knew that the messenger was up to no good.

"_What did you do?"_ Apollo mouthed at him. Hermes shook his head slightly, signaling that he would find out soon enough.

Unfortunately, Hera did not miss this exchange.

"What's going on?" she demanded of her two stepsons. Apollo bit his lip to keep from spitting out the truth – being the god of truth was difficult sometimes. He glared at Hermes with acucsation.

The young god smiled at Hera innocently. "Nothing."

Hera's interrogation was cut short by the blood-curdling scream that echoed through the palace.

Zeus looked up in alarm. "Was that Aphrodite?"

His question was answered when said goddess ran into the dining hall. Her hair was as orange as the setting sun.

The reactions of each god were as different as the sun and moon. Hera simply stared, frozen with shock. Apollo, usually stoic, was fighting the urge to smile. Hephaestus smirked at the sight of his wife. Hermes had already fallen off his chair, and was doubled over with laughter. Zeus was looking upon the scene with amusement.

_"You!"_ the love goddess screeched, pointing at her half-brother – the one that was still rolling around on the floor. "_You _did this!"

"Stating the obvious," Apollo muttered. Aphrodite shot daggers at him before returning her attention to Hermes.

"You stupid, feathery, little _monster-!" _

"Is that all you can come up with?" Hermes gasped, wiping the tears from his face.

Aphrodite screamed with rage. "I look like a _pumpkin!"_

"I know!" the messenger hooted with glee.

"I thought pumpkins had green stems," Zeus mused, twirling his fork between his fingers.

_"Argh!"_ his daughter yelled, rounding on him. He immediately fell silent.

"Stop throwing a tantrum and sit down," Hera ordered, finally recovering from her initial shock.

"A _tantrum_?" Aphrodite exclaimed. "Look at me!" She pointed at her head.

"I've already seen you," the elder goddess snapped. "Now _sit down _so we can eat."

"I'm glad things are back to normal," Zeus stated happily, earning a glare from his wife. The king shrugged.

"You're still beautiful, darling." Hephaestus finally spoke up, trying to comfort the ruffled goddess. Finally, she took a seat. Hermes, too, climbed up from the floor and slid back into his chair. The gods dug into the food that was already piled on the table, carefully staying away from the subject of Aphrodite's hair.

"That was uncalled for," Apollo said to Hermes under his breath, after making sure that Aphrodite was distracted. "She didn't do anything to you."

Hermes sniggered. "It isn't like I put a poisonous snake in her bed. Besides, isn't vanity a bad thing?"

Apollo considered the question for a while. "_Bragging _is a bad thing," he finally decided.

"Whatever you say," Hermes muttered, taking a bite of his dinner. The two gods generally had polar opposite views on things. But didn't the saying go that opposites attract?

* * *

When Hermes had finished dinner, he sat back and yawned widely.

"Sounds like someone needs to go to bed," Apollo commented.

"Mmph," was the intelligent response.

Apollo stood in one graceful movement, pushing his chair back as he did so. "I'll come with you. I want to go to bed, too."

Hermes looked up at the older god, smiling prettily. "Why, Apollo – I didn't know you felt _that _way about me…"

"Don't be ridiculous," Apollo said, not meeting his eyes. He could feel his face turning red, and when he looked up, he caught sight of Zeus staring at them both, aghast. As quickly as possible, he led Hermes out of the room.

Hermes' room was closest to the dining hall. Both gods stopped outside the entrance, shifting uncomfortably and waiting for the other to speak. "Well…" Apollo said quietly.

With the quick smile that Hermes was so famous for, he stood on his tiptoes until his green eyes were level with Apollo's blue ones. "Good night," he whispered, pressing a chaste kiss Apollo's lips. Then, quick as a flash, he disappeared into his room, slipping past the curtain that hung in the entryway.

* * *

Apollo returned to his own room and prepared to go to bed. He ran a brush through his long hair, snuffed out the torches, and began to slide under the blankets…

But then, for the second time that night, an infuriated scream echoed throughout the palace. It sounded like it had come from Hermes' room.

Apollo leapt out of bed, raced down the hallway, and charged through the messenger's doorway, shoving the curtain aside as he did so. He stopped in his tracks upon seeing an infuriated Hermes and a smug Eros staring at each other.

"What's going on?" Apollo asked. His voice was dangerously quiet. Eros' smile faded. He knew very well that Apollo had despised him ever since the latter had struck the god of light with one of his arrows, causing him to fall in love with Daphne. The incident was the original reason that Apollo wore a crown of laurel leaves in his hair – when Daphne was running away from the golden-haired god, the earth turned her into a laurel tree. Apollo vowed to wear the leaves in his hair so that he would never forget her.

Right now, Eros was defenseless. He didn't have his bow-and-arrow with him.

"This piece of filth," Hermes hissed, pointing at the god upon his bed, "is trying to blackmail me into sleeping with him."

Apollo had never heard the generally happy-go-lucky messenger sound so angry. The fact that Eros had managed to upset _his _Hermes to such extent caused anger to rise within him like an erupting volcano.

"You are a poor excuse for a god," Apollo said, his eyes fierce.

Eros clamored to his feet and returned the stare, raising his chin in a defiant gesture. "You can't make accusations without knowing what happened."

"I don't recall accusing you, stupid boy!" Apollo said forcefully, and Eros took a small step backwards. "And don't presume to know the limits of my knowledge. I know what a disgusting, petty little creature you are. How dare you come here, to where those greater than you reside, thinking that you can wreak havoc and get away with it?"

Eros had no response to this. Apollo regarded him coolly. "I think that a year in exile would teach you a lesson. Hermes –"

Said god tore his hateful gaze away from Eros, and looked at Apollo inquiringly.

"—take him to the Underworld. Tell Hades that he is a gift from me." Apollo smirked, both at his own words and the horrified expression on Eros' face.

"You can't do this to me!" he protested. Apollo's eyes bore into his.

"Anyone who does wrong deserves punishment," he said coldly, nodding at Hermes. The messenger grabbed the young god none too gently by the arm. "Enjoy your flight."

Just before Hermes took off, he gazed at Apollo with a grateful expression. "Wait for me?" he asked softly, and Apollo nodded. Hermes disappeared from sight with a flash of light, Eros in tow.

Slowly, Apollo made his way to the bed that Eros had vacated only moments ago. He climbed onto the feather mattress, sighing when he inhaled the scent that was so comfortingly familiar. _Hermes. _The sheets smelled like a mixture of vanilla and strawberries. Apollo let his eyes flutter shut.

* * *

He must have drifted off, because the next thing he was aware of was warm breath blowing against his ear.

"Apollo…wake up."

"Hmm?" he hummed, rolling over and stretching out an arm. His hand came into contact with something soft and warm – Hermes' face. He heard a soft gasp when his hand moved lower, and breath ghosted across the tips of his fingers.

"You fell asleep – " Hermes gasped once more when Apollo stroked his bottom lip. "— in my bed. Not that I'm complaining," he added wryly, and Apollo felt his lips curve into a smile.

"Can I stay the night?" he purred, lowering his hand to Hermes' arm and trailing lower until he found his hand. Intertwining their fingers, he pulled until the messenger fell onto the bed next to him.

"No funny stuff," Hermes murmured, and Apollo felt him nestling his head into the crook of his neck.

"Of course not," he replied softly, wrapping an arm around his waist. Neither of them spoke for several moments. Then…

"Love you, 'Pollo," Hermes whispered in his ear sleepily.

Apollo blinked in surprise. "What did you just say?" But there was no response. A second later, the messenger's breathing became soft and even.

* * *

When Apollo awoke, the room was still pitch black. But before he could begin the process of trying to figure out _why, _he was distracted by a warm body wriggling in his arms. Sometime during the night, Hermes had managed to crawl on top of the archer. Their torsos were pressed together, and Hermes' head rested on Apollo's shoulder. "Why's it so dark?" the messenger murmured.

"I don't – " Apollo began to answer, but was cut off by the eruption of voices in the hallway.

_"Apollo!" _an all-too-familiar voice bellowed. Said god groaned loudly.

"It's too early for this," he declared fretfully. Hermes cuddled closer in an attempt to comfort him.

"I don't want you to go," the dark-haired god whispered sadly. "I wonder what he wants?"

Footsteps echoed in the hallway, and flickering candlelight was visible under the curtain. A second voice spoke. "Where's Apollo?"

"Aphrodite," Hermes muttered.

"I don't know!" answered Zeus, sounding like he was ready to throw a thunderbolt . "He's not in his room."

"Have you checked in here?"

Apollo knew that she was referring to the room they were in right now. "I have to go," he hissed. Quickly, Hermes rolled off of him. "I'll meet you later."

With a golden flash, he was gone. A split second later, Zeus was shoving aside the curtain and striding in, followed closely by Aphrodite. Her hair looked ridiculously orange in the light cast by the candle. Hermes fought the urge to giggle. "Have you seen Apollo?" his father demanded. He looked furious.

"Not this morning," Hermes lied easily. Zeus eyed him suspiciously, and Hermes tried not to squirm under the stare. "Why do you need him?"

"What does it look like?" Aphrodite snapped.

"Well, I'm fairly certain that he doesn't have the power to fix your hair," her brother drawled with a smirk, glad for a reason to ignore his father's searching gaze. "So enlighten me."

Aphrodite snarled. "The _sky, _you idiot! Apollo hasn't driven the sun to the east."

_Oops. _"So have Helios do it."

"We don't know where he is."

_Sigh. _"I'll go find him."

* * *

In the meantime, Apollo was racing towards his chariot. The four horses were waiting for him, kicking their hooves against the ground and tossing their majestic heads with impatience. He vaulted into the chariot and took up the reigns. With a flash of fiery light, they were driving across the sky.

When the job was done, Apollo closed his eyes and willed himself to appear at Hermes' side. The first thing he heard when he had done so was the sound of bickering.

Opening his eyes, he saw Athena, Ares, and Artemis directly in front of him. They were obviously in the midst of a heated argument.

"You can't just charge into battle without a plan!" Athena was saying. "How do you expect to win a fight if your soldiers are running around like half-witted Cyclopes?"

"You take down as many people as you can!" Ares retorted. "That's what war is!"

"And if you run blindly into the enemy's trap, that's exactly what they're going to do to _you_!" Athena put her hands on her hips and glared up at the war god – or rather, the god of bloodlust. His twin was looking on with an expression that resembled disgust.

"Good morning, Apollo," someone said in a pleasant voice, and Apollo turned around to see Helios looking at him with a smile.

"About time for it to be morning," Ares grumbled. "What's your problem, Apollo?"

"Watch your mouth," Artemis snapped, always protective of her younger twin.

"I wasn't insulting him," Ares said defensively. "Really, it's ridiculous how much everyone loves him – just because he's so _pretty _–"

"We don't love him because he's pretty!" Athena said angrily. "You're jealous because he's more attractive than you."

"More attractive than me?! Says _who?!_"

"I'm standing _right here,_" Apollo said loudly, but no one was listening to him.

"Says everyone," Hermes said coolly, stepping forward. Apollo reached out and touched his arm in an attempt to get his attention, but the messenger didn't notice. "And not only is he more attractive – he isn't a bloodthirsty, savage maniac. That's more than I can say about _some _people…" He let his voice trail off, shooting daggers at his least-favorite brother.

Ares rounded on the messenger. "Who do you think you're talking to, little brother?"

"Leave him alone!" Artemis said loudly, stepping forward and shoving Ares away from the smaller god. She knew how Apollo felt about Hermes.

"Stay out of this, Artemis!" Ares shouted.

"Stop this nonsense!" Helios finally roared, stomping forward towards the Olympians before a massacre took place in his foyer. His body temperature was rising, causing waves of heat to radiate off of him. "You call yourselves gods, but you can't even have a conversation without it ending in a shouting match!" He didn't need to say that he was disgusted, because it was evident in his voice. The four younger gods had the presence of mind to look meek under his smoldering golden glower.

"And while I appreciate the fact that you think I'm attractive," Apollo added, speaking to Athena, "I would prefer it if it weren't a source of tension in the pantheon."

Athena and Artemis grinned at him, but Ares was staring at the blonde god with furrowed eyebrows. After a moment, he turned to Athena. "Do you really think he's more attractive than me?" he asked curiously. Hermes rolled his eyes and looked away. Artemis cocked an eyebrow.

"I always thought Dionysus was very handsome," she said.

"That drunken mess?" Ares asked, incredulous. She giggled.

"Dionysus is really attractive," Athena agreed, and Ares looked even more flabbergasted at the words of the virgin goddess. He turned to Hermes, Helios, and Apollo.

"Do you agree with this?" he demanded. Hermes and Apollo both shrugged but Helios smiled widely.

"If you ask Dionysus, he'll tell you just how attractive I think he is."

Apollo couldn't tell if the older god was joking or not. He didn't really want to stay to find out. "Let's get out of here," he muttered to Hermes, and the messenger grunted in agreement. Apollo gripped the younger god's forearm, and Hermes flew them to Olympus.

They hadn't been in the palace for two seconds before a loud noise drew their attention to the main hall. "_I told you not to come in here!" _Zeus' voice yelled. Apollo raised a blonde eyebrow.

"Trouble in paradise," he said sarcastically. He usually tried – and managed – to avoid dramatic situations.

"We should probably see what's happening," Hermes said dubiously. Apollo sighed, but headed towards the commotion anyway. Hermes trotted after him.

They were met with a very odd sight.

Zeus was sprawled across the floor, his tunic soaked in what appeared to be wine. A shattered glass lay next to him. At his feet sat a giggling Dionysus, his long hair in disarray, crown of ivy leaves lopsided. Hera was off to the side, fuming – Dionysus had also managed to splash her dress.

"—need to watch where you're going!" Zeus was saying, sitting up and attempting to avoid the broken glass. Dionysus was paying him no mind. He had pulled a bunch of grapes from somewhere within his chiton, and was popping them into his mouth one-by-one.

"'Pollo! Hermes!" he suddenly cried out, noticing his hovering brothers. "Grape?" he offered. When they declined, the drunken god grabbed Apollo around the ankles, sending him crashing to the floor. He crawled towards his head. "Eat your grapes!" he ordered, waving the bunch in the blonde's face. Apollo grimaced and shoved the youngest Olympian away.

Just then, another flash of blinding light caused all five gods to blink. The group of Artemis, Ares, and Athena had arrived – and they were quarreling once again.

"Just because we're chaste doesn't mean we can't find someone attractive!" Athena was saying heatedly, Artemis nodding in agreement. Ares caught sight of Dionysus, who was giggling at Apollo. "But _this_? You find _this _attractive?" He gestured towards his youngest brother in disbelief. Hermes chortled.

"At least he knows how to have fun!" Artemis snapped. "Now will you quit your whining? You're giving me a headache."

"I know how to have fun!"

All of the gods within earshot snorted, including Zeus and Hera. Ares looked outraged.

"Ripping the skin off of mortals does not qualify as 'fun' to most people, Ares," Athena informed him. His dark eyes flashed. Without another word, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the hall. Athena and Artemis grinned at each other in silent congrats before they turned and caught sight of their father, who was still sitting on the ground in a puddle of wine. Athena cocked an eyebrow. "What happened?"

Hera pointed at Dionysus. Athena followed the direction of her finger, and both of her eyebrows rose. Dionysus was now using Apollo's stomach as a pillow, much to the dismay of the Sun God. His legs were crossed in the air, a foot bobbing along to music that only he could hear. He swallowed another grape and burped. Hermes snorted with laughter. "Help me," Apollo pleaded. Athena walked over to stand in front of Dionysus.

"Dionysus," she began, gazing down at the all-too-happy god. "Don't you think it's time to get off Apollo?"

Dionysus shook his head, grinning up at his sister. "No!"

Athena sighed, and without further ado, reached down and grabbed her brother by the arm. Dionysus had always been relatively small, so the feat wasn't difficult. She dragged him up and slung him over her shoulder. "Hey!" he cried out.

"You'd better not vomit on me," she huffed threateningly.

"Put me down!" he squawked as she calmly walked out of the hall.

Apollo stood up, rubbing the spot on his stomach where Dionysus's head had been and muttering 'foolish boy' under his breath.


	4. Chapter 4

Apollo glanced across the hall and was surprised to see that Hermes had wandered over to Artemis and was now engaged in a deep conversation. Hermes was gazing at her with a serious expression. Apollo felt a spark of jealousy.

As he watched, Hades popped into existence and marched over to the huntress and messenger. The three talked for several moments for Hades suddenly turned on his heel and all but sprinted out of the room in the same direction that Zeus and Hera had just gone.

How curious. Apollo frowned and walked over to his sister and the messenger. "What were you doing with Hades?" he asked, speaking more to Hermes than Artemis.

Hermes shrugged, not meeting the archer's eyes. "Just making some – er – compromises."

Apollo could sense dishonesty and continued to gaze at him through narrowed eyes. "I think you're keeping something from me."

"He doesn't have to tell you _everything_," Artemis said with a roll of her eyes.

He glared at her.

"You'll find out soon," Hermes interrupted them, giving Apollo an assuring look.

The blonde wasn't comforted, but he couldn't help but blush when Hermes gave him a small smile.

Artemis snorted but then flashed them both a wicked grin that wouldn't have looked out of place on Hermes' face. "So, what are you two going to do once we resolve this Persephone situation?"

Apollo glanced at Hermes and was hurt when he saw that messenger looked extremely uncomfortable.

Once again, he got the feeling that something was amiss.

**Later That Day**

Afternoon found Apollo at the ruins of Troy, perched on a stone block. He was barefoot, wrapped in a gold cloak despite the heat of the day. A slight frown marred his features.

He wondered if Hermes was ready for a serious relationship. They had been the best of friends for centuries, but Apollo couldn't shake away the thought that the young messenger was beginning to have doubts. The image of his expression in the throne room that morning kept floating to the front of his mind. He had seemed so distant and…_reluctant._ He let out a small sigh.

"Having problems?" a snide voice asked from behind him.

Apollo turned around and came face-to-face with Hades.

"You've spent a surprising amount of time on Earth today," Apollo remarked dryly.

It was true. Hades hardly ever ventured from his kingdom.

"I've been solving some problems," his uncle responded in a terse voice, brushing his dark hair away from his face.

"What sort of problems?" Apollo asked, leaning back against a stone slab.

Hades joined him, shooting the archer an annoyed look. "The sort of problem caused _by you," _he accused. "I know that you're engaged to Persephone."

Apollo, unfazed, rolled his eyes heavenward. "Zeus's new plan to keep Demeter from murdering him," he said by way of explanation. "Obviously, Demeter doesn't fancy Persephone marrying her uncle…"

"—_especially _an uncle who rules the Underworld." Hades finished the sentence, smoldering eyes narrowed. Apollo nodded in affirmation. Hades' face soon morphed into a twisted smile.

"It's too late for Demeter to be worrying," he said. "Zeus agreed to let me marry her."

The older god watched as Apollo's face went from shock to bewilderment. Bewilderment soon changed to comprehension. Comprehension morphed into delight. But the delight darkened quickly.

"What's wrong?" Hades asked in a rare display of concern.

The archer looked up to meet the eyes of his uncle.

"There's someone I'm interested in," he admitted. "He thought that I wouldn't be able to pursue our relationship, because of Persephone – but now I'm beginning to think that he lost interest in me –and I don't know _why_."

"I have trouble thinking that _anyone _could lose interest in you, nephew," Hades stated with just a slight trace of amusement.

Apollo's brow furrowed. "Demeter said the same thing. But it's happened before. I'm not married yet, am I?"

Hades pulled his knees close to his chest, trying to decide what to say. "Not everyone you have a relationship with is going to be someone you are willing to marry – or that is willing to marry you," he said carefully. "Is this person someone that you would be willing to marry?"

Apollo didn't answer immediately. He tilted his head up, gazing at the sky that was his father's territory. Today, it was a clear blue. Then he thought of a certain messenger flying through that sky with laughter in his emerald eyes. After centuries of seeing him nearly every day, Apollo had those eyes memorized. He knew how they sparkled when he snickered, and how they narrowed when he was angry. He recalled how they widened with anticipation the first time Apollo leaned forward to kiss him. He remembered how they'd fluttered shut when the archer had run his fingers through the ebony locks.

But before that, they had been best friends. They had laughed together over countless jokes and pranks, had taken walks through the forests and confided secrets to one another. Was he willing to sacrifice that if something should go wrong in their relationship?

"I don't know," he finally whispered. "I don't know."

* * *

Angelia was faithfully waiting for her master at his temple in Delphi. After he had sat down, she immediately put her head in his lap. He absent-mindedly scratched before her ears. His head was spinning with thoughts—since the discussion with Hades, he hadn't stopped thinking about what could have made Hermes lose interest in him.

"What could I possibly have done?" he said softly. "I can't think of anything."

And then he paused, struck by a sudden idea.

_Artemis! _

He had thought it was weird that they had been spending time with each other. Normally, they went their separate ways, only speaking when necessary.

"That must be it!" he breathed. "He has feelings for _Artemis_!"

Angelia lifted her head up, copper eyes somber.

He gazed back at her. "Now the question is," he said quietly, "what should I do about it?"

**Later**

Apollo made his way to Artemis's temple several hours later. He couldn't postpone talking to her.

"Artemis!" Apollo barked as he stormed inside.

Artemis was perched on her throne, surrounded by a group of chattering maidens. "Apollo," she greeted him.

Apollo stormed forward, determined to settle this once and for all.

There was absolutely no way that he would stand by and watch as the god he loved and his _sister _started a relationship. He had fallen in love with the messenger first. It wasn't fair.

"Go away!" Apollo snapped at the maidens, waving a hand at them.

They scattered, and Artemis shot him an angry glare. "That was unnecessary."

Apollo ignored her. "What exactly is it that you think you're doing?" he growled.

Her glare hardened. "You can't honestly tell me that you're mad about what Hermes and I did?"

"Of _course_ I'm mad!" Apollo exclaimed. "You have absolutely _no right—" _

"No right?!" Artemis demanded. "Apollo_, I love him_! I want him to be happy!"

"I love him too!" Apollo shouted, fury in his voice. "But now—now—I don't think I can do this."

"What are you talking about?" Artemis said, putting a hand on her hip. "In case you didn't notice, _brother,_" she spoke the last word scornfully, "I've fixed everything for you. Persephone is out of the picture. You're free to be with Hermes."

"I can't be with him now!" Apollo shouted. "You've ruined everything! He's in love with _you!" _

Artemis didn't hear the last part of that sentence because she was yelling over her brother's words. "Of course you can be with him!" she cried. "Persephone is marrying Hades, so you're free to pursue Hermes!"

Apollo was furious. Why wasn't she listening to him? He couldn't be with Hermes anymore. Not knowing that that the messenger was in love with someone.

"I don't _want _to pursue Hermes!"

The words echoed off the stone walls, stunning Artemis into silence.

And then…

"What?" a small voice said. Apollo whirled around.

Hermes was standing in the shadows, emerald eyes wide.

_No. No, no, no, no…! He didn't hear that!_

"H-Hermes – " Apollo stammered. "How long have you been here?"

Hermes looked down at the ground, and Apollo could hear him breathing heavily. After several seconds, the messenger looked back up. His eyes were red—it was clear that he was fighting back tears—but his face was determined. "You don't need to explain anything," he said in a cold voice that made Apollo shiver. "I heard what you said. After all, what could Phoebus Apollon want with the petty little messenger? Don't worry, my lord…"

When Hermes bowed mockingly, Apollo felt like he'd been punched in the gut.

"…I won't bother you again."

There was the sound of beating wings, and Hermes vanished on the spot.

Apollo felt dazed.

Even without using his gift of foresight, he knew that he had just effectively ruined his relationship with the messenger – friendship included.


	5. Chapter 5

**Three-thousand Years Later**

It was no secret that Apollo had never been very good at relationships. He was one of the few male Olympians that still remained unmarried, even in 20th century AD. It wasn't because of his looks. By no means was he unattractive. With his long blonde hair, flawless skin, and large blue eyes, it wasn't unusual for him to receive admiring stares from women and men alike.

Nor was it because of lack of talent. Apollo was a patron of music and archery, and there wasn't a single soul that could compete with him in either category. Although the bow-and-arrow was no longer considered to be a valid weapon, archery was still a popular sport that he participated in regularly.

No. The reason that he was still unmarried was because he had ruined the relationship he'd had with the only person that he had ever truly loved more than three thousand years ago.

That person was Hermes, the messenger herald of the Olympian gods.

For a while, they had continued to see each other often –but the meetings were entirely professional in nature. There was no remaining trace of the romance they'd once had, or the friendship before that. Apollo and Hermes had both sank into a vast abyss that no one could rescue them from.

Time went by and the world advanced. New gods surfaced and become popular. The Olympians were all but forgotten. They resigned themselves to taking a place in the new world. The palace on Mount Olympus was almost always deserted, and it had been several centuries since Apollo had seen Hermes. In fact, the only other Olympian that he regularly saw was his twin, Artemis. His parents, aunts, uncles, and siblings had disappeared amongst the vast population that now covered planet Earth.

That didn't mean that his fellow gods weren't still making their presence known. He had seen Aphrodite on the cover of Vogue. Zeus had twice been elected president of the United States –under an assumed name, of course. Hephaestus had designed the new flat-screen televisions that were now all the rage, and was the owner of a popular electronics company. Dionysus had starred in several movies.

And Apollo had become a rock star. He reveled in the feeling of being onstage, in that moment when the spotlight hit him, in the roar of the crowd and the dancing fans in the front row…

But even with all that, he still found himself scanning the crowd, searching in vain for any sign of dark, curly hair and emerald eyes.

He dreamed in emerald.

He created a new identity for himself, one that was wild, that didn't care. On stage and in the spotlight, his eyes were lined with black and his lower lip was pierced. His music was filled to the brim with emotion. It called out to his long-lost love. His fans gladly soaked up the angst.

The reasonable part of him stayed away from the drugs and alcohol that his band indulged in, although he did think it would be nice to just _forget_. There wasn't a day that went by when he didn't think about what he had lost – when he didn't think about how different his life would be if he hadn't ruined everything. He knew that he had lost a person whom he had loved with every particle of his body.

These were the thoughts that were on his mind as he made his entrance onstage amidst screams and flashing lights. He grabbed the microphone and closed his eyes when the spotlight hit him. The screams intensified tenfold. He knew what song they were expecting him to perform.

He opened his mouth and the lyrics spilled out, as natural as a flowing river. His hips swayed. He could hear the crowd singing along with him, and mentally smiled at the devotion of his fans.

His eyes opened when he reached the bridge –and froze in shock when he caught sight of an emerald gaze. Before he knew it, he'd missed his next line. His guitarist elbowed him in the ribs.

"Er…" He quickly sang the next line, but not once did he tear his eyes away from their desperate search.

Had it been a coincidence?

When he reached the chorus of the song, he held the microphone for the audience to sing the first line, trying to make up for his momentary lapse. The lyrics were bellowed at him in unison, and he smiled cheekily. The girls in the front row swooned.

The next part belonged to his guitarist, who often acted as co-singer. Apollo swayed to the music, brushing his damp hair away from his face and throwing his head back. His music was the thing that had got him through these last couple centuries.

When the song ended, he danced to the front of the stage and grinned at the crowd. "How are you doing tonight, Paris?" he asked, and waited for the cheering to end. "I have a surprise guest for you!" he shouted. "Give a warm welcome to Vladik Ksov!"

Vladik was a Russian singer who had recently become very popular in Europe. His sultry voice never failed to win over the crowd.

Apparently he was already well-known with this particular audience – Apollo was afraid that the resulting screams would blow the roof right off the building. A second spotlight flashed on and captured Vladik as he walked onstage. The man, a long-time friend, had curly blonde hair similar to Apollo's. He was donned in tight jeans and a simple white t-shirt. He gave Apollo a wink as he approached. At Apollo's gesture, the band struck up the tune for Vladik's most popular song. 

Apollo –much like all of Vladik's fans—had always adored the man's sensuous voice, and he found himself dancing as the Russian singer opened the song.

The song was about lost time, and the pain of not being able to spend eternity with a loved one. It struck something deep inside of Apollo, and he sang his part with all the strength he could muster.

Vladik shot a small smile at him – he knew all about Hermes, though under a different name.

Eventually the song came to an end, and the crowd roared its approval. "Are you ready for a more upbeat song?" Vladik shouted, standing on the rim of the stage and touching the hands of the girls that reached for him. "Hey, sweetheart, is that whiskey for me?" he grinned down at a young woman who looked barely old enough to be drinking.

She offered him the cup and he downed it in one gulp.

Apollo shuddered. He had never been a fan of hard liquor.

By the time Vladik returned to his side, the guitarist was already strumming the intro to the last song of the night. Apollo recognized it asbeing a particularly naughty one. He knew the fans would love it. It was about a stripper.

They dove right into it, and soon the two singers were both performing dance moves that wouldn't have been out of place in a strip club. Apollo ripped off his jacket and tossed it into the crowd, turning back around before he could see the ensuing scuffle.

He choked back a laugh when he spotted Vladik twirling around the microphone stand.

"Did I ever tell you guys that Vladik used to be a stripper?" he shouted into his microphone.

"You promised you'd never tell!" Vladik cried, much to the delight of the crowd.

Apollo laughed and continued the song.

When it was finished, the Russian singer bounded forward and hugged Apollo tightly. "Good night, Paris!" they both shouted before exiting the stage.

Both of them were dripping sweat. Someone handed Apollo a hair band, and he quickly tied the thick tresses back, muttering a 'thank you' as he did so.

He still couldn't shake the image of those green eyes out of his head.

"Great show tonight!" Vladik said cheerfully, and Apollo mumbled in agreement.

Before he could head to his dressing room, a stage hand cornered him. "Hey, Phoebus. There's a fan here who really wants to see you. He says it's urgent."

Apollo stared at him blankly. "You know you're supposed to turn all the fans away."

The man rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Eh…he paid me a lot of money to ask you."

Apollo sighed and shrugged. "Fine. Send him to my dressing room."

His body guard, who was standing only mere feet away, instantly rushed forward. "What do you think you're _doing_?" the man hissed in his ear as the stage hand scurried off.

The blonde frowned at him. "Just shut up and do your job."

"I'm _trying _to do my job!" was the indignant response.

Apollo shrugged it off. "Let's go."

They headed back to his dressing room, where the stage hand was already waiting outside the door. "He's in there. Real nice guy. I don't think you have anything to worry about."

"That's what they all say," the body guard muttered.

Apollo hushed him before pushing open the door.

The stranger was facing away from them, wearing a long coat with a hood pulled over his head. The body guard pulled the door shut with a _click _as Apollo stared at the other man's back. His frame was small and slender. He looked to stand about a head shorter than Apollo's own six-foot-two.

"Um…can I help you?" Apollo asked, aware of how lame he sounded.

"I enjoyed the music that you played tonight – _Phoebus_." The man spoke with a slight accent, similar to the Greek one that Apollo tried so hard to cover up.

Apollo tilted his head to the side. "Thanks, but may I ask who you are and what you want?"

"I used to be a fan of yours. But a while ago, you did something that upset me. I thought that I might give you another chance tonight."

"Who are you?" Apollo repeated. He could hear his body guard shifting around behind him.

The man turned slightly. Apollo could see delicate features hidden beneath the shadows cast by the hood. A plump lower lip, slender nose, and long eyelashes that were lowered over his eyes – features that were strikingly similar to –

"Look at me!" Apollo demanded in a harsh voice. The lashes rose. Vivid green eyes stared at him, eerily bright in the dim room.

"No…" Apollo croaked, suddenly feeling unsteady on his feet. Alarmed, his body guard grabbed his arm. "Leave us," Apollo snapped at him. Although he looked upset about it, the body guard obeyed.

Apollo turned back to –

"Hermes?" he whispered. His mouth was dry. The man inclined his head, reaching up a hand and pulling back his hood. Curly hair was revealed; it was as dark as ebony and stopped just above his jawline. He looked paler than usual.

"You let your hair grow," Apollo said softly. He didn't answer.

"I have a message for you," he said shortly.

Apollo was crestfallen.

"But – you said – "

Hermes stared at him, a mix of emotions crossing his face. Finally, he said in a low voice that was barely audible, "I can't be hurt like that again. I _won't _be hurt like that again."

Apollo bit his lower lip, and blurted out the only thing he could think of. "Don't go."

The messenger, who in the low light appeared so young and vulnerable, averted his gaze to the floor. He began to unbutton his coat, retrieving a small parcel from somewhere within. He set it on a nearby table. After a moment, he looked up. His eyes were filled with pain. "I do miss you, Apollo. I miss the god that was always so kind – who swore he would never let anyone hurt me. But in the end, you were the one that hurt me, Apollo. I – I loved you."

Apollo felt as if he had been hit by a truck – a very _big _truck.

He was struck by a flashback.

_"Hermes, you don't understand!" Apollo cried, following the messenger into his room. _

_"What is there to understand?" Hermes shouted back, whirling around. His eyes were wild. "I _heard _you say it! This entire time, you've been leading me on. What kind of person _are _you? What did I do to deserve this? Just – just leave me alone!" He turned away, leaning against the stone wall._

_"I haven't been leading you on!" Apollo said desperately. "I just thought – maybe – maybe it would be better if we stayed friends."_

_Hermes pushed himself off the wall, once again facing the archer. "Don't you realize? It's too late for that! I can't be friends with you."_

_"Why?"_

_Hermes opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His face began to redden, and tears swam in his eyes. "Because – " he choked out. "Because…I'm already in love with you."_

_"What?" Apollo breathed, dumbfounded. _

_"You heard me!" Hermes suddenly screamed. "I'm in love with you! I'm in love with you, and you – you – " Words failed him. His eyes were ablaze. With a strangled cry, he flew at the golden-haired god, fists flying. _

Apollo crashed back to reality. Hermes was buttoning his coat back up. "I have to go," the messenger muttered.

"No, don't!" Apollo pleaded. "I've missed you so much. I need you here."

"You survived three thousand years without me," Hermes reminded him tersely, heading towards the door.

"I love you!"

Hermes brushed past him, only pausing to say, "There was a time I would have given anything to hear you say those words. And the one time you do, you don't mean it at all."

"Yes I do!" Apollo said, very nearly shouting. "I've been looking for you all these years – waiting – I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am!"

"That's right," the messenger said solemnly, stopping at the door. "You can't."

With one last lingering look at the fallen god, he slipped from the room, ducking his head to hide the tears that were threatening to fall.

* * *

Apollo fell to his knees once the door had closed, burying his head in his hands. He couldn't help but wonder how many times he would have to see Hermes walk out a door.

He looked up hopefully when the door opened once again, but it was only Vladik. He was clutching a beer in his hand and swaying slightly. "Kneeling in leather pants? Nice," he said jokingly.

Apollo fell forward, his head resting against the cool floor. "Leave me alone," he groaned.

Vladik came closer.

"What's wrong, _chuvak_?" he asked, sounding as concerned as he possibly could in his drunken state.

"Remember that guy I told you about?" Apollo said. "He just stopped by."

"That little _malchik_?" Vladik asked incredulously. "With the eyes?"

"Yes, with the eyes," was the sarcastic response.

"Hmm…I bet I can make you feel better," Vladik said cheekily.

"Vlad, you're straight," Apollo reminded him tiredly.

"Oh...yeah," Vladik said, sounding surprised. Then he smiled crookedly. "But you're _very _pretty."

"Thanks – I think."

Vladik shrugged and sat down on the floor, crossing his legs and making himself comfortable. "So what happened?"

Apollo shook his head. His ponytail swayed behind him. "I don't want to talk about it right now."

"Whatever floats your boat, _chuvak_."

Apollo lay down with a _woof _of air, staring at the ceiling dejectedly. "I hate watching him walk away."

He could feel Vladik watching him sympathetically. "He doesn't know what he's letting go. There are so many people that would _kill _to have you."

"It's my fault," Apollo admitted. "I hurt him."

"Sometimes you've got to let that stuff go. Balance the good with the bad."

"How do I convince him that I'm sorry?" Apollo asked, aware of the despair in his voice.

Vladik was silent for a moment. Then, quietly, he said, "Write him a song."

When Apollo opened his mouth, Vladik quickly clarified, "Not the kind of song you _hope _he hears. The kind of song you _know _he'll hear."

In a strange way, it made sense.

"I've been in this situation before," Vladik continued, "and there is no better way to get to someone's heart than with music."

Apollo nodded. _"Spasibo," _he said in a soft voice.

Vladik nodded back.

* * *

**Two Months Later**

* * *

Apollo had taken Vladik's advice, but he wasn't doing it alone. Another friend and artist had offered to write the new song with him. This young woman was no stranger to relationships gone wrong. Last year she had been on the news as a victim of domestic violence. "It was probably the biggest mistake of my life," she'd told Apollo. "But I couldn't help it. I loved him."

His co-writer sang the chorus of their new song. Tonight would be its unveiling. She and Apollo – or Phoebus Apollon, as he was known to the public – were scheduled to appear onstage in Los Angeles at exactly ten o'clock. It was 9:55 now.

Apollo prayed to the absent gods that Hermes would be here.

"Ready?" his co-writer asked breathlessly, appearing from around a corner. Her short red hair was wildly styled.

Apollo nodded, the muscles in his neck tight with tension. He had braided his hair in the ancient Greek style of warriors in a moment of sentiment. He remembered Hermes' nimble fingers unbraiding the golden locks, teasing that he looked more like a common soldier than a powerful god.

A stage hand cued them that it was time for them to make their entrance. His friend wrapped her arm around his waist, and together, they walked onstage.

Apollo closed his eyes against the familiar glare of the spotlight, allowing his fellow musician to lead him. When he felt her stop moving, he opened his eyes and was met with the sight of microphone mere inches from his face.

She gave him him a reassuring smile before turning to the crowd, grabbing the microphone and backing up a few paces.

As Apollo walked towards a piano, he shook his head in his trademark gesture, sending golden locks flying in every which direction. Admiring screams assaulted his ears as he settled down on the bench. He began playing as soon as he heard the sound of his fellow musician's voice.

The chorus passed quickly, and before he knew it was his turn to sing. He took a deep, shuddering breath and leaned towards the microphone. His fingers continued to dance across the keys as he sang, and strangely, it kept him grounded. It distracted him from wondering if Hermes was listening.

His lines seemed to go on forever, and his lips began to feel numb. The light music of the piano, the heavier guitar, the beat of the drums all seemed to echo in his ears, despite the monitors he was wearing.

Finally, finally, it was over. There was a split second of what seemed to be silence, but then the cheers erupted.

His friend grinned at him from her spot in the middle of the stage before beginning to sing over the still-screaming audience.

Apollo could feel his heart pounding in his chest.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Okay, a few things before you read on. First off: THIS IS NOT MEANT TO OFFEND ANYONE. I absolutely love angels-always have. And there is one in this chapter, namely Gabriel, who is my favorite. Yes, I do like the Gabriel from the show Supernatural, but there is absolutely no mention of any of the characters from the show here (or Loki). **

**Raziel in this chapter is borrowed from the Jewish religion, but he isn't an archangel in this story. I just really liked what I read about him in my research.**

**Again, this is not meant to be offensive at all. So if you're easily offended, go back now. **

* * *

All in all, it was one of the best concerts he'd ever had. His friend's face was aglow by the time it was over, and Apollo was exhausted. Even so, he refused to sleep once he returned to his hotel room.

Somehow, he knew that Hermes would come.

It was four in the morning before he heard the familiar flutter of wings. Apollo had been lying in bed on top of the covers, staring at the ceiling. He shot up like a dart when he felt the disturbance of the air – his hair fluttered in the sudden breeze. Then he heard those infamous winged sandals – the sound was similar to that of a hummingbird. Indeed, a split second later, a dark figure appeared in the center of his room.

Tonight, Hermes was donned in a pair of dark pants and a black t-shirt. Apollo felt his insides jolt when he saw the name _Phoebus Apollon _scrawled across the breast of the shirt.

For several moments, the two gods simply stared at one another in absolute silence. Emerald eyes battled sapphire.

It was impossible to describe the loathsome pounding of Apollo's heart. He was terrified that the other god would be able to hear it. But, my Lord…he was so ridiculously _beautiful. _

His skin seemed to glow in the dim light. His hair softly curled. His jeans fit him perfectly– tight at the hips and thighs but slightly flared past the knees. Apollo shivered slightly.

"Well?" the singer finally said, trying not to choke on the word.

"Well, what?"

"The concert – what did you think?"

Hermes fell silent. Then: "Are you and that girl…?"

_"No!"_ Apollo nearly shouted, his eyes bulging. "We're just friends. We write music together sometimes."

"Oh."

"Are you okay?" Apollo asked softly.

Hermes looked at him, bemused. "Why wouldn't I be?"

The blonde shrugged uncomfortably. "You seemed…down."

Hermes sighed. He couldn't put it off any longer. "There's a problem in Olympus," he admitted.

"What kind of problem?" Apollo asked suspiciously. As far as he'd known, Olympus was deserted.

"It's the angels. They've returned to Earth."

Apollo's eyebrows rose.

"A couple of them visited the palace," Hermes went on.

"So what?"

"Well—they asked about you. They're looking for someone, and they think you might know him."

"Why would I know anything about an angel's whereabouts?" Apollo snapped. "I'm not exactly Christian, if you hadn't noticed."

Hermes bit his lower lip. "You probably won't want to hear this, but—"

"Yes?"

"They seemed to think that your Russian friend was the one they're looking for."

Apollo had the sudden urge to laugh. "Vladik? They think _Vladik _is an angel? You saw him onstage last night, right?"

"Right," Hermes said, averting his eyes. "There's something I need to tell you. I've met Vladik before. He was good friends with Loki—"

"That annoying Norse god?!" Apollo demanded. He had never liked Loki.

"Yes," Hermes affirmed. "Well, Vladik and Loki came to me for help about a thousand years ago. Of course, 'Vladik' wasn't the name he used. But anyway, he had gotten into trouble with the other angels and needed a place to hide. Loki and I helped him out." His voice sounded sheepish, and for a moment, it seemed as though things were back to normal. The mischievous messenger confiding in his best friend…

Apollo shook his head to clear it. "Why would you help an _angel_?" he demanded.

"Angels aren't bad!" Hermes protested. "Haven't you ever read the Bible?"

Apollo stared at him, dumbfounded. Hermes, apparently realizing what he had just said, giggled.

When the laughter subsided, he said, "I understood how he felt. He was caught between his family. It was one messenger helping another…"

"I still don't understand what this has to do with us," Apollo cut in.

"The other angels figured out that I helped him. They need him to join their army. Apparently there's some big war coming up."

A wave of comprehension hit Apollo. "You're on the run," he stated.

Hermes nodded in confirmation. "They're looking for us," he whispered.

* * *

To say the least, Hermes' confessions had sent Apollo's love issues to the back of his mind. For two millennia, he had been able to avoid the henchmen of the new God. And now, they were after his best friend – his true love –

Apollo groaned loudly, throwing himself down on the ratty couch in his dressing room. "What's happening?" he questioned, not sure who he was talking to.

Suddenly, the door to his dressing room opened with a loud _bang. _Apollo jumped to his feet, immediately on men entered – except they weren't men.

The first one was small in stature, similar to Hermes. His dark hair was short, ruffled as though windswept. His eyes were piercingly blue.

The second man was large and donned in a suit. His deep brown eyes were narrowed, analyzing Apollo as though he were an interesting science experiment.

_They're angels._

"So, you're the infamous Apollo," the first man spoke in a deep voice.

Apollo looked at him sharply. "What do you want?"

He ignored the question. "I am Raziel," he introduced himself. "And this…" he held a hand up, gesturing at the larger man behind him, "is the archangel Raphael…Patron Saint of Healing."

"Where is your feathery little friend?" Raphael spoke, cutting to the chase.

"That's rich," Apollo snorted. "_You, _calling someone _feathery…_"

"Watch your mouth, you petty little thing," Raphael growled. Behind him, Raziel looked uncomfortable.

"Petty?" Apollo said, his voice cold. "I have been on this Earth for millions and millions of years. You have only been recognized for two thousand years. If anyone is petty…"

"Stop!" a third voice commanded. Apollo whirled around, recognizing the voice. Vladik had appeared on his couch, looking as though he'd been there the entire time.

"Vladik," Apollo acknowledged grumpily.

"What's up, _chuvak_?" Vladik responded. Although his tone was carefree, Apollo could see the worry in his eyes.

"Gabriel?" Raphael breathed from behind them.

"Hi, brother," Vladik whispered.

"Look at you!" The elder archangel's voice was mournful. "Gabriel, you used to be so beautiful…"

"Hey!" Vladik exclaimed, clearly insulted.

Apollo looked on with disbelief.

"We are not here to discuss one another's appearances," Raziel broke in calmly.

"Right. You're here for _me_." Vladik pointed at himself. "Well, here I am."

"What are you going to do with him?" Apollo asked, directing the question at Raziel.

"He will be forced to join the Lord's army. Regrettably, heaven is in need of all its generals."

"Regrettably?" Raphael scoffed. "This is destiny, Raziel. Who are we to judge it?"

Raziel did not respond.

"And who are you to think that you can force me to join _any _army?" Gabriel challenged. Apollo's eyebrows rose when he noticed that the Russian accent had faded. "I'm not an angel anymore. That ride is over. Has been for years."

"You are, always have been, and always will be an angel," Raphael hissed, his teeth grinding together audibly.

"I would rip out my own Grace before I joined your war!"

"Is it so wrong to fight for your family?"

"I wouldn't be fighting _for _my family. I would be fighting _against _my family!"

"Oh, in the name of Zeus!" Apollo yelled, cutting across their argument. "You people have problems!"

All three angels stopped and stared at him in surprise. "Excuse me?" the archangels asked in unison.

"You are dragging the entire planet into the middle of your pathetic war. Why can't you leave us and the humans out of it?" he demanded. "My family doesn't want _anything _to do with a Christian war—seeing as how we aren't Christian. Obviously Vladik doesn't want a part in it either. What makes you think that you have the right to drag us into it?!"

Apollo was surprised to see that both Gabriel and Raziel looked guilty, although Raziel only slightly. Raphael, on the other hand, said in a voice that cut through the air like a knife, "God gives us the right, you filthy little Pagan."

Apollo and the elder archangel glared at one another in silence. Only the fluttering of millions of feathers broke the contest. When Apollo turned around, Vladik – No, _Gabriel – _was gone.

* * *

It was several weeks before there was any sign of either Hermes or the angels.

They finally showed up on a concert night.

Friday nights were Apollo's favorite. Crowds were more enthusiastic on Friday than any other day. Enthusiastic crowds always made for a good concert.

It was in the middle of his most popular songwhen he saw them: The angels. They were standing in the front row, donned in cheap suits and looking at him with the blankest expressions he had ever seen. They made a sharp contrast to the enthusiastically dancing girls on either side of them. And then, as Apollo's eyes drifted away, he spotted Hermes standing farther down the row with Vladik. The dark-haired messenger looked terrified, while his angelic companion appeared to be having a good time. And then his eyes shifted to the side, and what he saw made his mouth form a wide _O _of surprise.

"Dionysus!" he gasped out on accident, his voice echoing through the venue. Silence fell over the building like a heavy blanket.

His guitarist sang the next line in his place, shooting the blonde singer a meaningful look.

Apollo hastily finished the song, trying not to sound too distracted. After the last lines had been sung, he signaled to his band that he was going to take a break. He hurried backstage as his guitar player began a solo, nearly running into Vladik in the process. Hermes and Dionysus were standing behind him. "What are you doing here?" Apollo hissed, directing the question at all three of them.

"The safest place to be is right under the nose of the enemies," Vladik informed him. Hermes remained silent. Dionysus tilted his head up, gazing at his older brother with a charming smile. "I heard you were in town. Thought I'd come and see you." He paused, glancing at Vladik. "And Gabe and I have a – um – past."

Apollo made a face at the angel, who shrugged innocently. "Hey, before you, he was the most handsome man I'd ever seen."

Apollo looked back at his brother, who for once was not drunk. Coal-black eyelashes framed eyes that were as violet as the wine he drank.

Then his mind registered the rest of what Vladik had said. "Before me?" he asked incredulously.

"Oh, please," Vladik said, rolling his eyes and gesturing at Apollo like that would explain his words.

"But—I thought you were—" Apollo sputtered.

"You should see Eros," Dionysus piped up.

Apollo groaned. "We are not having this conversation!"

"Did someone call my name?" a new voice asked, and Apollo whirled around to see Eros. His auburn curls were covered with a beret, his slender body was concealed beneath a leather jacket, and skin tight jeans had Vladik gawking at the newcomer.

"Uncles," Eros acknowledged Hermes and Apollo, false sincerity in his voice.

Apollo could feel Hermes stiffen behind him. "Why don't you crawl back to whatever hole you came from?" the messenger growled.

Eros ignored the messenger. "Who's this?" he asked instead, eyeing Vladik.

"This is Vlad-Gabriel," Apollo corrected himself. "As in the Christian archangel. Now if you'll excuse me…" He could hear the screams that were demanding his return.

* * *

He finished the concert as hastily as he could.

When he was able to leave the stage, he found Dionysus humming Keith Urban's _Making Memories of Us _while Gabriel drooled over Eros.

"You know," Apollo drawled. "That sort of behavior really isn't fitting for an archangel."

"Can we just get out of here?" Hermes begged, appearing over Dionysus's shoulder and peering around anxiously like he expected Raphael to swoop out of nowhere—which, Apollo supposed, was always a possibility.

"Sure thing," Gabriel said lazily.

And before Apollo knew what was happening, he was struck by a sudden wave of dizziness. He felt himself pitching forwards, and then his nostrils were filled with the scent of grass.

He could hear Hermes groaning next to him. Upon opening his eyes, Apollo instantly knew that he was no longer at the concert venue. He was somewhere outside, lying on the ground.

"I haven't felt this sick since Dionysus's last party," Apollo moaned, covering his eyes with his hands.

"Sorry," he heard Gabriel's voice say. "Apparently you pagan gods aren't made to travel by Air Angel."

"Don't call us 'pagan'," Apollo snapped. To him, the word was derogatory.

"Sorry," Gabriel apologized, sounding abashed.

Apollo struggled to his feet, blinking rapidly. Something didn't feel quite right; his head seemed heavier, and there was something brushing against his thighs. Reaching back, he patted his hair before grabbing a handful of it and bringing it over his shoulder. The full length of it dropped past his hip. His hair hadn't been that long since…

"Vladik?" he growled. "What did you _do?_"

The angel's shifted his weight from foot to foot and looked down at the ground.

Apollo looked away from him for a split second with the intention of checking on Hermes. When he focused on the messenger, Apollo realized that the younger god donned in a white tunic. His golden band was barely visible beneath his hair. Above his ears, the white wings were moving feebly. His feet were bare. Looking down, he saw that his own body was wrapped in golden robes.

"I just meant to take us outside," Gabriel's voice explained.

Apollo looked back at him, scowling.

Gabriel stared back at him with surprise. "You look a lot different without all that makeup."

"What did you do?!" Apollo repeated, his voice a growl.

"I—I haven't used my powers in a long time," Gabriel said, looking upset. "I guess I did something wrong."

"Well then, send us back!" Apollo demanded.

"I can't. "My power's too drained from coming back this far."

"You mean we're stuck here?" Hermes yelped, looking horrified.

"Yes," Vladik said. He paused before asking, "So, what did you guys do for fun in this time?"

"Cut the heads off idiotic angels!" was Apollo's angry response. He liked Gabriel a lot better as Vladik.

The angel in question blanched. "I'm starting to see why Lucie calls you people savages."

"Who's Lucie?" Hermes asked curiously.

"My brother," Gabriel replied. "He's down in Hell right now."

"The devil is your brother?" Hermes said, his dark eyebrows rising.

Apollo didn't give Gabriel a chance to answer. "What are we supposed to do? We don't even know what year it is," the blonde fumed. "This just proves that nothing good can come from helping angels."

Gabriel pouted.

"Wait a second!" Hermes said suddenly, staring around. "Where are Eros and Dionysus?"

"Maybe they haven't been born yet," Gabriel suggested.

Apollo screwed up his face, thinking hard. "So that would make this sometime before the 14th century, right?"

Hermes shrugged.

The angel and the gods were silent for several moments, before Gabriel suddenly said, "Do you hear something?"

"No," Apollo replied moodily.

"Listen!" the Christian messenger said impatiently. And then, seconds later, they heard it.

_"Apollo, the healer, be with me today, tomorrow, and forever, closer than my heart…"_

"It's singing," Hermes said in a soft voice.

_"You who are dearest to me, you who are first in my life: The most beloved of my heart._

_Oh, mighty slayer of the Python, my handsome, lovable god; bless me, bring me happiness and guide my life._

_And may I please you in every way, for I love you, my golden-haired father, with all my heart."_

"We must be in Delphi!" Apollo exclaimed.

"I didn't know that people loved you so much," Gabriel said, sounding surprised.

Apollo shot him an annoyed look. "Let's just go to the temple, alright?"

Gabriel cleared his throat as they began to walk. "So, Hermes. You never told me where you got the wings."

"I'm not going to grace that with an answer," Hermes responded in a dry voice, his lips twisting into a grimace.

Apollo gave him an amused sidelong glance. It turned out that Gabriel was just as annoying as Hermes on a bad day.

"Did your father make them for you?" Gabriel persisted. Hermes' eye twitched.

"No. Hephaestus did."

"Hephaestus is your brother, right?"

"Uh huh."

"Why did he make them?"

"Gabriel," Apollo growled before Hermes could answer. "Would it be possible for you to shut up for five minutes?"

"Probably not."

Apollo gave a long-suffering sigh.

"Why'd you let your hair grow so long, Apollo?" was Gabriel's next question. "I mean, I always thought it was crazy-looking back in the twentieth century, but this is something else."

The god of light ignored him pointedly.

Hermes chuckled. "He doesn't believe in cutting his hair. The only reason it's shorter now – er, in our time – is because Ares cut a bunch of it off."

Apollo tuned out Gabriel's voice, choosing instead to watch Hermes as he chatted animatedly with the angel. The blonde noticed how he had a habit of running a hand through his mop of curly hair while he talked. His jet-black hair made a sharp contrast against the ivory-pale skin of his hand. Another endearing trait was the way he chewed on his bottom lip whilst thinking. Apollo smiled to himself.

"It isn't polite to stare, you know," a voice whispered in his ear.

To this day, Apollo will never admit to jumping out of his skin and screaming like a girl.

"Artemis!" he gasped after whirling around and coming face to face with his twin. Up ahead, Hermes and Gabriel were still chatting, apparently oblivious to the sudden appearance of the huntress. "What are you doing here?"

"You've been missing for days. Zeus was starting to get worried."

Apollo rolled his eyes. "I can take care of myself, you know."

The goddess smiled. "It wasn't you he was worried about. It's Hermes." She nodded in the general direction of the messenger. "What did you do? Kidnap him?"

The blonde scowled. "No."

She raised her eyebrows when he offered no more explanation.

After a few moments of trailing behind the messengers, she spoke again. "You seem different."

Apollo hesitated, glancing at his sister with pursed lips, before answering. "Different in what way?"

"More morose. More brooding and thoughtful."

"Aren't brooding and thoughtful the same thing?"

"Tis not the point, brother," she said, but her lips quirked slightly.

He sighed heavily. "I can't explain right now, but one day you'll understand."

She nodded, pushing her mane of brown hair behind her shoulders. "The best of luck to you, brother. And tell Hermes that our father requires his delivery services." With that, she disappeared in a flash of blue light, leaving in her place a beautiful doe. Apollo smiled at the animal before rushing to catch up with the messengers.

"Change of plans," he announced. "We're going to Mount Olympus."

His words were met with identical stares of befuddlement. "Zeus thinks I kidnapped you," Apollo explained.

"Great." Hermes grimaced while Gabriel chuckled.

"So you were already a stalkerish pervert in this time, huh?" the angel asked, smirking up at the taller god.

Apollo's eyes narrowed to slits. "First of all, I have never stalked him," he growled. "Second of all, I have no problem ripping your tiny insignificant head off."

For the first time since they met, Gabriel's face looked truly angry. He looked nothing like the singer that Apollo had known as Vladik. "I'd like to see you try," the angel hissed. "I might have left my garrison, but that doesn't mean I lost my powers."

"Right," Apollo gave a mirthless laugh. "You just don't know how to use them anymore. Isn't that the reason we're here in the first place?"

"Shut your mouth," the angel snarled.

With just a thought, Apollo's bow appeared in his hands. The tip of an arrow was pointed at the Judeo-Christian messenger's throat.

"Apollo," Hermes' quiet voice said. He felt a hand wrap around his arm. There was a silent plea in that one word. He lowered the bow.

"Just attempt to control you cheeky comments," Apollo snapped, looking away as he shouldered the bow. Hermes' hand trailed down his arm to grasp his hand.

"Thank you," he whispered. Apollo nodded, lowering his lashes over blue eyes. Gabriel huffed and crossed his arms.

"Gabriel," Hermes said, tearing his emerald gaze away from the blonde. "Take 'hold of my arm." The angel did as directed, still scowling. Apollo observed this with a smirk as he grasped the brunette's other arm. In the space of a second, their feet had left the soft ground of the earth and touched down upon the stone floor of the temple. They found themselves face-to-face with the male gods of Mount Olympus. Apollo quietly examined his family from thousands of years ago.

Zeus's hair was not yet silver, but a dark shade of blonde. Gold gauntlets encased his wrists, and blue eyes stared at the three newcomers with open curiosity. His two elder brothers were on either side of him, one glaring at them with hostility, darkly beautiful, and the other with a rather blank expression. Apollo was not fazed by Hades' show of anger; he had become used to it long ago. Poseidon's hair was silver, as were his eyes: an odd combination for the eternal youth of his face. He hadn't changed much.

Ares, for once, was not donned in armor. He merely wore a cloth tied around his waist. His arms were crossed and his eyebrows raised. Apollo felt the familiar twinge of dislike for his least-favorite brother.

Hephaestus was absent, leading Apollo to believe that the blacksmith had not yet returned to the council.

"Where are the girls?" Apollo inquired.

"Obviously not here," was Hades' dry response. Apollo furrowed his brows but asked no more questions.

"You wanted to see us, Father?" he said to Zeus.

The elder god smiled. "I just wanted to be sure that my sons were alright," he said, "and to know why you have been absent for so many days."

"We lost track of time," Apollo answered. It wasn't exactly a lie.

"Hm," Zeus hummed. "Hermes, I have messages for you to deliver." He pulled a large cloth bag seemingly out of nowhere and handed it to his youngest son, who took it with a disgruntled expression. Apollo could see that it was filled to the brim with envelopes. "And Apollo – you have a visitor," Zeus added to his favorite son. Apollo raised his eyebrows, but before he could say anything a slender figure appeared from a corridor. The archer instantly recognized her.

"Cassandra!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Apollo saw a scowl beginning to cross Hermes' features. Apollo had once been in love with Cassandra, and was responsible for giving her the gift of foresight. Upon denying his advances, he cursed her so that no one would believe her predictions.

The prophetess was now standing in front of the archer and his companions. "Caught in time, are we?" the beautiful woman asked with a smile.

Apollo bowed his head in confirmation, curly hair spilling over his shoulders. "You are correct. We had an – er – _incident – _with an angel."

Cassandra did not ask what an angel was, but merely gave an eccentric smile. Gabriel was watching her with raised eyebrows.

"I saw something," Cassandra continued, looking up at the tall blonde with all-knowing eyes.

"What did you see?" he asked, curiosity bleeding through the words.

She smiled and looked from Apollo to Hermes and back again. "Happiness," she said simply.

Gabriel's eyebrows disappeared beneath his bangs, and he cackled – something Apollo only thought people did in bad horror movies.

"I was always rooting for you two boys to get together!"

"You haven't known me for that long," Apollo reminded him.

"I'm my father's messenger!" Gabriel said indignantly. "I know everything about everyone! _Everyone _knows that. Haven't you ever seen my paintings? I—"

He rambled on, but both of the Greek gods ignored him. Hermes shook his hair out of his face before smiling up at Apollo.

Apollo couldn't stop the grin from breaking across his face. Cassandra beamed at both of them before turning and walking away.

"-with babies flying around my head all the time –" Gabriel was grumbling.

Hermes looked away from Apollo. "Christian babies can fly?" he asked blankly. Apollo snorted with laughter.

"Never mind," Gabriel huffed. "Can we get out of here? This place gives me the creeps."

Zeus, his brothers, and eldest son turned and stared at the angel with disdain.

Hermes groaned. "Could you please try not to anger my family? They aren't deaf, you know."

"Sorry."

Rolling his eyes, Hermes grabbed the archer and angel's wrists, taking flight before Zeus had the chance to throw Gabriel back down to Earth. He landed in a vast valley with gently rolling hills.

"So, Gabriel," Apollo said casually as he brushed off his robes. "Why did you decide to join us gods?"

Gabriel sighed and plopped down into the grass. Apollo followed suit, albeit much more gracefully. Hermes remained standing, gazing down at the two blondes.

"It all started with the first great war," he began. "Dad had just created man, and he called the Heavenly Host together. He asked us to bow down to his new creations. Most of the angels did. But my brother Lucie threw a hissy. He was a real narcissist…since people were always telling him how gorgeous he was, he got the idea that he was better than the rest of us."

"Was – _Is –_ he gorgeous?" Hermes asked.

Gabriel nodded solemnly. "Yeah. Well, anyway. He started a rebellion. Our father had him thrown out of Heaven. Home was never the same after that. I skipped out and made myself a new body."

"You made this body?"

Gabriel nodded, beaming with pride. "Nice, isn't it? I mean, it's not as nice as yours – " he winked at Apollo. "But still."

Apollo scrunched up his face when Gabriel looked down to examine a nail. Hermes laughed, and then stopped abruptly when the angel lifted his head. "What's funny?"

"Nothing," Hermes lied easily. Gabriel continued to look suspicious. Hermes tried to put on an innocent expression, but it seemed out of place on a face that had spent millennia looking impish.

"Epic fail," Gabriel commented with a smirk.

"You don't have to be mean," the messenger pouted.

"I'm a warrior of God. What do you expect me to be? A fluffy bunny?"

"Maybe a little bit fluffy," Hermes confessed, pulling his legs up to his chest and resting his chin upon his knees. Apollo chuckled while Gabriel rolled his eyes.

"Gabriel?" A new voice suddenly asked. Apollo turned around to see the short angel, Raziel. "What are you doing here?"

"I took these boys on a trip down memory lane," the archangel answered, waving it aside with nonchalance. Apollo snorted.

"How can you take a trip down a lane that doesn't exist?" Raziel asked blankly.

Hermes made a noise that sounded like a bark. Gabriel shook his head and sighed. "Never mind. Um—I kind of got lost in time."

Although the dark-haired angel still looked confused, he dropped the subject. "Well, I've been looking for you. Raphael is furious that you disappeared."

"He'll get over it," Gabriel replied. "It's not the first time I've done a vanishing act."

A look of disapproval crossed Raziel's face, but he remained silent.

"Sit down," Hermes invited him. Raziel did so, crossing his legs and sitting stiffly. At Apollo's baffled expression, Gabriel explained, "He still hasn't figured out how to use his vessel's body. It's really uncomfortable for us at first. Our real forms are huge and –"

Before he could find the proper adjective, Raziel spoke up. "You need to return to the present time, Gabriel," he said.

"What for? Is the world falling apart without me?" he asked sarcastically.

"Because otherwise Raphael will drag you back himself." Raziel's tone was grave. "Now hurry."

"But he said he doesn't have the power to return yet," Hermes piped in. Gabriel blanched and Raziel's confused expression returned.

"Of course he does. Archangels are the most powerful rank in heaven. Time is easy to bend –"

Without waiting for him to finish, Apollo and Hermes turned to Gabriel and glared.

"You aren't going to shove that thing in my face again, are you?" Gabriel asked warily, eyeing the bow and arrow that was slung over the blonde's shoulder.

Apollo didn't answer.

"Gabriel," Raziel said, his blue eyes solemn. "You know that lying is a sin…"

"And that was Raziel with the big picture," Gabriel said with a roll of his eyes.

"Stop talking and take us back!" Apollo finally snapped. "Your god gives you buffoons too much power."

"Oh, would you relax! It's not that big a deal," the archangel exclaimed, throwing his hands up.

"I have better things to do than traipsing around 13th century BC!"

"Like what? Shaking your ass for people on stage?"

"Way over the line," Apollo hissed.

"Stop it, you guys," Hermes said tiredly. "Gabriel, just take us back, please?"

Gabriel sighed but nodded. He had his index and middle fingers on their foreheads before either of the gods could process what was happening. Perhaps it was because this was the second time they had traveled by "Air Angel", but there was no sudden wave of nausea or dizziness. There were, however, what seemed like _thousands _of flashing lights. Screams ripped through the air. Apollo blinked.

He was standing onstage, side-by-side with an equally-confused Hermes. The enormous crowd that filled the venue around them was screaming impatiently.

For once, Apollo didn't know what to do.

He looked sideways and saw that Hermes' eyes had gone hazy. But before he could ask what was wrong, the cloudy expression faded and the smaller man moved forward, grabbing two microphones. He handed one to Apollo, shooting him a reassuring look.

And then Hermes sang.

His voice was sweet and sent a wave of calmness through Apollo. When it was the blonde's turn to sing, he found that he was more than ready.

Hermes shot him a wide smile, and Apollo was rather amused to see that the messenger was enjoying being on stage.

When they finished, the venue erupted with the familiar burst of cheers

* * *

Hermes was a hit. Apollo was certain that the screams and cheers had rendered him deaf. Nearly every trace of the messenger herald was gone – the man with the curly black hair, dancing to and fro in blue jeans and a black t-shirt, was almost foreign to Apollo. It was only when the younger god turned his green orbs to the blonde that Apollo recognized the small delicate face. Once again, he felt an uncontrollable surge of love for this deity that he had known for so long. His laughter-filled eyes, impish smirk, the way he ran his slender hands through his mop of curly hair – it was all engrained in Apollo's memory.

He found himself drifting towards the messenger, who was currently standing with several fans that had managed to obtain backstage passes. Hermes was laughing about something when Apollo walked up.

"Excuse me," the brunette smiled at the girls before turning to the blonde. "_Geia!" _he greeted Apollo in Greek, looking up at the taller god.

Apollo seized his hands, pulling him closer until Hermes was mere inches away from his own body. He paid the gaping girls behind them no attention, nestling his face into the messenger's soft neck. The familiar scent of vanilla and strawberries flooded his nostrils, and he inhaled deeply. "I want to go home," Apollo whispered. "Take me home, _Ermis._"

Hermes pulled his hands from Apollo's and reached up, placing them instead on the archer's pale face. Meeting his gaze, Apollo saw that the usual mischievous expression had been replaced by one of concern. "Hold on," he whispered, standing on tip-toe to wrap his arms around Apollo's neck and holding him tightly. Long blonde hair stirred in the sudden breeze. Apollo closed his eyes tightly. When they reopened, he saw that they were standing in Hermes' room on Mount Olympus. It was dusk in the heavens, and torches were ablaze in the window. It was as if they had once again stepped back in time. But when Apollo looked at Hermes, he saw that the messenger was still donned in his 20th century clothing; his eyes were filled with concern for his friend.

"Hermes," he whispered again. "I—"

He didn't know what it was he wanted to say.

_I love you._

_I missed you._

_I want you._

"I need you."

Hermes' eyes widened. Apollo bit his lip, worrying that he had said the wrong thing. But then the messenger's face broke into a smile. "Honest to the very end," he whispered, stepping forward. As he moved, he reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it up over his head. Apollo reached for him in desperation. His skin was cool compared to the archer's. Apollo leaned forward to place a kiss on the messenger's forehead, and his hair spilled forward, covering Hermes' shoulders.

"I want to spend the whole night in your eyes," he sang softly, brushing his lips over soft eyelids.

"Even though I stole your sacred cows?" Hermes murmured, and Apollo couldn't stop himself from laughing.

"If you didn't steal from me, you wouldn't be the Hermes I fell in love with."

Hermes tilted his head up to meet Apollo's eyes. There was a small smile on his face, and his cheeks were tinted pink. Without looking away, he slipped his hands into Apollo's and pulled him towards the feather bed.

* * *

Apollo awoke the next morning with his heart feeling lighter than it had in thousands of years. He sat up smiling.

Hermes was nowhere in sight. One oil lamp was burning on the bedside table, and next to it was a single red rose. Apollo picked it up, gently touching a petal before glancing out the window. He could tell that it was early morning. The first rays of the sun streaked across the sky in shades of pink and orange.

Before Apollo could climb out of bed, he heard footsteps echo outside the room. Within a minute, Hermes had walked through the entryway. His eyes immediately landed on Apollo, and he smiled softly. "Hey," he whispered, coming forward and sitting on the edge of the bed. Even with bruised lips, red eyes, and tangled hair, Apollo thought that he had never looked more beautiful.

"Where were you?" Apollo murmured, wrapping his arms around the slight waist.

"Delivering messages," he sighed, leaning into the embrace. "But I'll quit my job if you want me to."

Apollo chuckled. "What would Father do without you?"

Hermes bit his lip and smiled. "Find a new messenger that isn't millennia old?"

"You still look sixteen to me." He ran his fingers through the messenger's inky locks before groaning. "I have a meeting with the press today. I need to call my agent." He squirmed away from Hermes, climbing out of bed and searching for his jeans. The messenger watched as Apollo dug through the pockets, his expression becoming more and more frustrated when he couldn't find his phone. "I know I grabbed it before –"

He stopped abruptly when he turned and saw the younger god tossing his silver phone from hand to hand.

"Hermes!" he growled.

The thief laughed with delight. "I haven't lost my touch!"

Apollo snatched the phone away, shaking his golden head and not attempting to hide the tiny smirk on his lips.

Hermes leaned back into his cushions and gazed at his new lover as he dialed. The blonde balanced the phone between his shoulder and ear, pulling his hair over his other shoulder and beginning to braid it. "Hey, Heidi," he said, twisting strands of his hair with nimble fingers. "No, I was out last night. On a date." He glanced over at Hermes and winked. "I was wondering if there was any way I could reschedule that press conference…Really? Great. You're amazing." He clicked the end button and tossed the phone over his shoulder. "There," he smiled, "all taken care of."

Hermes rolled his eyes playfully. "You didn't have to do that for me."

"Who said I did it for you?" Apollo asked, and then laughed. "No, really – don't worry about it. You're way better company than a bunch of reporters asking about my hair."

"Your hair?" Hermes asked blankly.

The blonde scowled. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay," Hermes laughed, rolling over onto his side and placing his chin in his hand. He raised his eyebrows at the archer. "Are you just going to stand there or are you coming back to bed?"

* * *

It was late in the evening, and Apollo had returned to his house in France. He was sitting upside down on the couch, feet in the air and head hanging off the edge of the cushion. His guitar was balanced in his lap, and his eyebrows were furrowed. He was trying to find the right rhythm to the song he was composing. "Ba da, ba da, ba da da da da…" he hummed in consideration, before strumming out a few chords. "I gave it away like it wasn't enough…"

"Sounds pretty good," a voice said. Apollo jumped, sending the guitar crashing to the floor in his attempt to twist around.

"Who _are _you?" he demanded of the intruder, who was kicked back in the armchair. Apollo was sure that he had never seen the man – boy? – before. He appeared to be in his late teens or early twenties. Straight blonde hair hung a little above his shoulders. His bangs were brushed to the side of his forehead. His lower lip was pierced twice, as was his right eyebrow. His nose was pierced once. His eyes were done in heavy makeup.

"It's me," the boy spoke in a sultry tone. "Gabriel. Vladik. Whatever you want to call me."

"Oh. What happened to your other body?" Apollo asked as bent over to pick up his guitar.

"I figured it was time for a change, now that my brothers know what my other body looks like." Gabriel shrugged. "This body is mine, too. It's what I was wearing when Thor met me." He smirked.

"You look like a little kid," Apollo muttered, sitting down with his guitar on his lap.

"So do you," the angel pointed out.

Apollo glared at him. "Is there a reason you're here? Or do you just enjoy aggravating me?"

Before Gabriel could answer, there was the sound of fluttering wings. Hermes appeared before them, looking thoroughly annoyed. "Zeus took away my caduceus," he pouted before anyone could ask.

"Why?" Apollo asked, confused.

Hermes hesitated. "Because I kept poking Ares with it," he finally admitted sheepishly.

Gabriel burst out laughing as Apollo looked at his lover with a mixture of disapproval and amusement.

"What were you doing with Father and Ares anyway?" Apollo asked when Gabriel had shut up.

"They had messages for me to deliver." Hermes looked up and caught sight of Gabriel. He frowned. "What happened to you?"

"It's just a precaution," he explained lazily.

"You look like a little kid," he said, staring.

Apollo laughed. The sound was like tinkling bells.

"You're one to talk," Gabriel snorted. Hermes had the youngest face out of the three of them.

"Let's be mature," Apollo reprimanded as Hermes opened his mouth, undoubtedly to spit out a scathing reply.

"Fine," Gabriel said snidely. Then he glanced at the guitar that Apollo was still holding. "How about you play a song for us, Your Highness?"

Apollo shrugged, adjusting the guitar on his lap. "Fine. You can tell me how this sounds." He began strumming, trying to find the proper chords.

He strummed a few more chords, sang a few lines, and then stopped. "That's all I have," he admitted.

"That was beautiful," Hermes said softly, and the angel nodded in agreement.

"Thanks," Apollo smiled. "I wrote it for you."

"Big surprise," Gabriel snorted into the mug of hot chocolate that had just popped into his hands.

Apollo steadfastly ignored him, focusing instead on the young god that was now perched on an ottoman, knees pulled up to his chest.

Hermes blushed when he realized that the archer was staring at him.

"I am _so _out of here," Gabriel declared after watching this exchange.

"Good," Apollo said, not bothering to look at the archangel.

Gabriel huffed at this lack of attention. "So rude," he muttered before disappearing with a beat of his wings.

Apollo set aside his guitar, slipping into the seat that Gabriel had just vacated. He leaned forward towards Hermes until their faces were a mere inch apart. He could count every eyelash that framed his emerald eyes. His mouth turned up at the corners as he stared back at the elder god.

Apollo had never been very good at relationships. But somehow, even without using his gift of foresight, he knew that he had finally found one that would last.


	7. Epilogue

_Epilogue_

* * *

"Stay when you think you want me; pray when you need advice…" Apollo sang the Seether song under his breath as he flipped through a magazine. He was sitting cross legged on his bed, clad only in a towel. He had just finished showering, and his damp hair was leaving trails of water down his back.

"I always pray when I need advice," a voice said from behind him. Apollo smiled but didn't turn around, instead keeping his eyes on the magazine. "It makes me feel better," the voice continued. "Especially when I pray to the far-shooter. I think he's the smartest of all the gods. And by far the most handsome."

"Nobody's called me that in years," Apollo murmured as he turned a page. "And you outsmarted me the day you were born, if you recall."

The voice laughed. "I didn't outsmart you. You were just too busy chasing girls around to notice that I was stealing your cows. And even if I did outsmart you – You're still the most handsome."

"It isn't my statue that's all over Greece," Apollo reminded him. "You're so handsome that the people felt the need to look at your face twenty-four/seven."

"You know that's not the reason my statue is all over Greece." The voice grew closer, and Apollo felt a pair of arms slip around his neck. "Besides, people would line up at your temple in Delphi just to have the honor of making an offer to the mighty god of light."

Apollo leaned back into the warm body with a small sigh. "People haven't done that in millennia, Hermes." He craned his neck to look at the delicate face of the messenger herald, whose head was now resting on his bare shoulder.

The younger god smiled. "If people didn't still love us –" Quicker than a flash of lightning, he reached out and grabbed the magazine from Apollo's hands. "They wouldn't continue to tell our stories."

He held up the magazine, which happened to be National Geographic. One of the articles was on Greek Mythology. On the front cover was a bust of Apollo, which only bore a slight resemblance to the actual god sitting before him. The nose was slightly too long, the cheekbones too low, and the curly hair wasn't anywhere near long enough. Still, Hermes smiled at it fondly.

"You know I'll always worship you, right?" Hermes whispered, tossing the magazine aside and crawling into Apollo's lap.

"I don't want you to worship me," Apollo said softly. "Just love me like I love you."

* * *

"Apollo?" Hermes called out, stepping through the front door. The first thing he heard was loud music, which wasn't entirely unusual. The messenger shook his head in amusement and crossed through the living room, trying to find the blonde.

The paintings on the walls shook from the music as Hermes made his way down the hall. He peeked into the master bedroom – and instantly grinned at what he saw.

It looked as though a tornado had ripped through the room. Clothes were strewn _everywhere_. And in the midst of it all was the god of light, in the middle of an all-out dance. The music was so loud that it left Hermes' ears ringing.

Hermes began to laugh as the older god swung his hips and shook his head, sending his blonde hair flying in every which direction.

Apollo spun around and caught sight of his lover standing in the doorway. Without ceasing his dancing, the archer beckoned Hermes in. With an impish smile, the messenger obliged. And then the song changed.

Apollo mouthed the lyrics, swaying to the music as he ripped off his button-up shirt and tossed it over his shoulder. Still chuckling, Hermes leaned against the wall and crossed his arms, watching the show.

In one fluid motion, Apollo fell back onto his bed, landing on his side with his arms over his head.

Hermes moved off the wall and sauntered towards the blonde. He climbed onto the bed and crouched overtop of his lover, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the pale neck.

Apollo blinked up at him slowly, his long eyelashes casting shadows on his cheeks.

"We're going to be late for council," Hermes murmured, now kissing his lover's eyelids.

"You're _always _late for council," Apollo breathed, wrapping his arms around the messenger's neck.

Hermes smiled. "Hold on tight," he murmured, and before Apollo could protest, the two had taken flight.

_A split second later…_

"Oof!" Apollo gasped out – his back had made impact with what felt like a stone surface, and the weight of Hermes was on top of him. Before Apollo could tell Hermes that he _definitely _needed to lose some weight, a fake cough broke the silence.

Thinking vaguely that he would probably regret it later, Apollo lifted his head and looked around him. He instantly realized where they were.

Hermes had landed them right in the middle of the council's table. Several pairs of eyes were staring at the duo, some with amusement (Dionysus) and others with disapproval (Hera).

"What's going on?" the booming voice of Zeus asked. Some might consider the tone to be intimidating, but Apollo, who had known his father for millennia, could tell that the king was attempting to hide his laughter.

Then, realizing that he and the messenger were still lying in a rather compromising position, Apollo shoved Hermes off of him. The blonde was sitting directly in front of Aphrodite, whose chin was resting in her perfectly-manicured hands. When Apollo met her gaze, she winked.

"As happy as we are that you and Hermes have – um – _progressed _in your love life…" Apollo cringed at Poseidon's words. "We would prefer that you fornicated at home, rather than on top of the council's table."

"We weren't –" Apollo began to protest, but then stopped. It would be a lie to say that fornicating wasn't what they had been about to do. "We weren't going to do it on your table," he muttered instead.

"That's a relief," Hades said, not attempting to lower his voice. At his side, Persephone giggled. Hera clucked her tongue.

"So," Hermes said cheerfully, crossing his legs and making himself comfortable on top of the table. "What's new with everyone?"

"Zeus got elected for a second term," Athena responded, smiling in her father's direction.

"And I'm going to be on the cover of _Cosmo_," Aphrodite piped up. Apollo ruffled her hair affectionately, and she batted his hand away with a playful scowl.

"You know, you should really give some of those human models a chance," Hermes told her with a grin. She rolled her eyes.

"Aphrodite giving someone else a chance to have their face plastered all over the world?" Dionysus gasped, covering his mouth in fake horrification. Zeus chuckled.

"Apollo's face is plastered all over the world too," Aphrodite said with annoyance. The other gods all gazed at Apollo and Aphrodite, thought to be the two most beautiful Greek deities.

"I still think Dionysus is more handsome," Artemis finally said, teasing her twin brother. Across the table, Ares rolled his eyes. The Dionysus-is-more-attractive-than-everyone-else joke had been going on for several millennia now. Catching the look on Ares's face, Hermes began to giggle hysterically, and, as always, the messenger's laugh was contagious. Soon, the entire pantheon was laughing.

With a content sigh, Apollo leaned back in his chair. It was good to be home.

* * *

**The song at the beginning of the chapter is _Country Song _by Seether.**


End file.
